Ten Double Zero
by GoofyGal2008
Summary: No matter how many years he spends on the job, there is one call that always makes an officer’s blood run cold. When that call goes out late one night, it brings to light some long-held secrets that will shock the team.
1. Ten Double Zero

**A/N:** I was going to wait to post this until I had finished my other stories, but the idea keeps brewing in my head and won't go away, so I figured I'd put this out there and see what the response is. This is my first CSI:NY story – I've tried hard to keep the characters as in-character as possible given that this is something that will never occur on the show, but please let me know if anything seems to be too far-fetched. There will be lots of twists and turns in this story, lots of secrets being revealed and relationships being altered. Hopefully you'll enjoy it as much as I've been enjoying writing it!

A note on the timeline – this story picks up about a year and a half ahead of where the show is right now. There will be some flashbacks showing things that happened in the intervening time, but hopefully things won't be too confusing. This first chapter really just serves to set the scene, with most of the "meat" of the story starting to show up in the next chapter.

I adore reviews, so please leave one to let me know what you think - good, bad or indifferent! I am always open to constructive criticism and to your suggestions for directions I should go in. All input is welcomed and appreciated!

**Disclaimer:** No, I don't own CSI:NY or any of its wonderful characters. I make no money off of them and I claim no rights to them.

Anyway, enough of my ramblings, let's get this story rolling...

* * *

No matter the city, no matter the state, there is a habit that all police officers share, one that transcends geography, personal history or rank. From the rookie patrol officer working his first beat, to the crime scene investigator who spends more time in the lab than on the streets, to the seasoned veteran about to punch his twenty and get out, there is one habit that always holds true.

One of the first things a rookie is shown during his first shift is how to locate the emergency frequency on his police radio. Throughout his career, it becomes second nature to flick the radio to that channel as he walks through the front door, leaving it set until he leaves to punch in for his next shift. When they retire, some officers will stop setting their radios when they walk through the door – the good ones, though, the true cops whose blood runs as blue as the uniform they wore so proudly, they never stop. In that simple action, an officer, whether retired or simply off-duty, says more than words ever could. _I'm with you_, the action says to all the others still out there. _I may not wear the uniform today, but I still stand with you._

The emergency frequency is rarely activated – only the most urgent of calls will go out on this channel. As a rookie, every call makes the officer sit up and pay attention. As the job hardens him, though, the codes stop having the same effect – hearing 'ten-thirty-three' crackle over the radio no longer gives him pause and 'ten-thirty-five' ceases to cause his heart to race the way it once did.

Regardless of how much time he spends on the job, though, there is one call that will always draw an officer's attention. No matter how hardened he becomes, there is one call that will always make an officer's blood run cold, one call that will always cause his heart to race as he sends up a silent prayer, one call that will always be enough to jolt him out of a dead sleep.

That one call is the ten-double-zero – officer down.

* * *

"Don't take this the wrong way, but you look like hell, Jess," Stella Bonasera commented as she walked into the Upper West Side apartment that was the site of her latest crime scene.

"I know," Jessica Angell sighed. "I don't think I've had a good night's sleep in the last three weeks."

"The Mendoza case?" Stella asked sympathetically.

"It's been a long time since I worked a case that draining," Angell said. "We finally cracked the bastard this morning, though."

"I heard," Stella nodded, kneeling down beside the dead body. "Why aren't you at home in bed?"

"I was on my way out when the call came in," Angell said. "Everyone else was busy with some big case on the Upper East Side, so I figured I could manage a simple suicide before I go hibernate for the next week."

"Gotcha," Stella laughed. "This one does look pretty open-and-shut. Do we have an I.D. on the victim?"

"Rachel Corcoran," Angell said. "Super says she lived here two years, model tenant, keeps to herself and always pays the rent on time. Lives alone, no boyfriend that anyone seems to know about."

"Sure looks like suicide to me," Stella said, photographing an empty pill bottle on the kitchen counter before bagging it for evidence. "Give me a few minutes to bag up this evidence, and you should be able to head home soon."

"Not soon enough," Angell shook her head as she continued to look around the apartment, unfazed by a slight rustling coming from the next room.

"Did you hear that?" Stella asked, pausing and looking toward the bedroom door.

"Probably just the wind," Angell said. "First on scene must have forgotten to close the windows."

"I don't think that was the wind," Stella said, pulling her gun out of its holster. "Cover my back while I check this out."

* * *

Don Flack was sitting through what could only be described as one of the most uncomfortable dinners of his life when he heard the call. Considering the nightmare that most dinners with his parents turned out to be, he figured it was saying a lot that they weren't even halfway through the meal and he'd already declared it one of the worst he'd had to sit through.

Frankly, Don was surprised that his mother had even had time to cook, given the immense amount of time she and his father seemed to have put into preparing lectures for their two children. Her patience was not helped by the fact that she hadn't been able to serve dinner until well after ten o'clock because his shift had once again run late.

"Donnie, don't think I don't hear the stories," his mother said, taking another bite of her pasta while Don simply swirled his around on the plate. Although he was usually a man with an insatiable appetite, something about listening to his mother lecture him on his dating habits had effectively killed the meal for him.

"Do ya now, Ma?" Don asked sarcastically. "There's a real shock."

"Well, your father may be retired, but that doesn't mean I don't still have friends with husbands and sons on the force, Donnie," she said. "I still hear what goes on down in those precincts. Do you have any idea what it's like to hear Marla Duncan – Marla Duncan, for Christ's sake, Donnie, a woman who can't keep her own husband in bed at night for more than two days straight – tellin' me that I ought to have a chat with my boy about the way he goes through women?"

"Well, Ma, I got a feelin' you're about to tell me exactly what it's like," Don sighed.

"I'll tell you, Donnie, it's mortifying," his mother continued, ignoring her son's sarcasm. "Absolutely mortifying. When are you going to grow up, Donnie? Find yourself a girl who'll stick around more than three or four weeks? You're not too old yet, you know…I'm sure I could still find you a nice, respectable girl down at the church."

"I'd sooner shoot myself, Ma," Don mumbled under his breath.

"You're not getting any younger, Donnie," his mother said. "I know you kids today think you can wait forever, but you really can't, you know. You've got to strike while the iron's hot, Donnie…and I hate to say it, but you're an iron that's close to cooling off. You don't want to be sixty when your kids are in high school, Donnie."

Glancing into the kitchen, where his father and sister had moved a few minutes earlier, Don could tell Samantha wasn't having an easy time with their father, either. Don still wasn't sure how he'd even managed to convince her to come, given the resentment she felt toward their father – rightfully so, in Don's opinion, after everything the man had said and done in the past year. Nevertheless, he was still their father and he had been adamant about wanting both his children to be there for dinner that evening.

His mother had opened her mouth again to resume her lecture when the words came crackling over his father's police radio, which sat tucked away in a corner of the room, always tuned to the emergency frequency. A hush fell over the room as all four of them listened to the words every officer dreads hearing.

_All units, ten-double-zero reported at 400 West 96__th__ Street; repeat, ten-double-zero, all units please respond._

* * *

Danny Messer bolted upright in his bed as the call came over the radio. In his sleep-filled haze, he hoped he'd heard wrong, but his heart only tightened as the dispatcher continued.

_Repeat, ten-double-zero, all units please respond__._

"Turn it off," the still-drunk blonde he'd picked up earlier that evening groaned as she threw an arm over his chest, trying to pull him back into bed. As he shoved her arm off, Danny remembered again why he hated one night stands. They never understood the job and they never understood him. He'd known it the moment the blonde had complained about the baby toys in the living room, but he'd been able to ignore it until this moment.

Lindsay would never have said anything about his radio. In fact, Lindsay would probably have been up and dressed, ready to rush to the scene long before Danny had even processed what he had heard. Lindsay understood this part of the job in a way that a woman unconnected to the job never could.

_Lindsay._ He could have sworn that he felt his heart stop momentarily as he remembered their conversation from earlier. Someone had screwed up the schedule; she'd asked him to take Allie that night since she was unexpectedly on call. He'd refused, although at the moment he was having a hard time remembering why. All he could think about was the fact that Lindsay was on call tonight. He knew the way the system worked – CSIs arrived after the crime, not during, thus rarely coming into the line of fire. The chances of Lindsay being the officer down were slim. Nevertheless, the strange feeling in his gut had him worried.

"You're leaving?" the blonde pouted from under the covers. "I thought we were having fun."

"I'm a cop, this is my job," Danny said gruffly, opening the drawer in his bedside table and grabbing his badge and service weapon.

"What's a ten-zero anyway?" the blonde asked.

Danny grimaced at her mistake. "Ten-_double_-zero," he corrected.

"Whatever, it's all the same," the blonde sighed in annoyance.

"No, no it's not all the same," Danny snapped. "A ten-zero is a warning to proceed with caution. Ten-_double_-zero means officer down, damn it. There's a big fucking difference."

"You're not working tonight," the blonde said. "Why are you going?"

"I'm going because it's what cops do," Danny said, grabbing the blonde by the arm and practically dragging her out of the bed. "Get up, you're leaving too."

"Why?" the blonde asked naively.

"I'm not stupid," Danny sighed. "I'm not leaving you here alone so you can rip me off. You can go home, back to the bar, I don't really care, but you aren't staying here. Now hurry up!"

* * *

Mac Taylor and Lindsay Monroe were wrapping up several hours of processing at a high-profile double homicide on the Upper East Side when the call came crackling out from the radios on the belts of the dozen or so uniformed officers in or near the small apartment that was their crime scene.

_All units, ten-double-zero reported at 400 West 96__th__ Street; repeat, ten-double-zero, all units please respond._

"Detective Taylor, where do we stand?" the lead detective, a new transfer from narcotics, asked.

"We've just finished," Mac said, reading the young man's intentions clearly. "Leave a uniform to watch the apartment. The rest of you can head over to the West Side. Detective Monroe and I will take this evidence back to the lab and meet you at the hospital."

"Thanks," the detective smiled wearily, grabbing his radio and calling in to dispatch to let them know that his unit was on its way.

"Mac?" Lindsay asked nervously.

"What is it, Lindsay?" Mac asked, taking in her panic-stricken appearance.

"That address…400 West 96th? That's what dispatch said, right?" she asked, her hands shaking.

"Yeah, it is," Mac said. "Why? Do you know someone who lives there?"

"Not exactly," Lindsay said. "But that call-out that came in right after we got here…Mac, I think we sent a team to that address tonight."

"Damn it," Mac muttered. "Who else was on call tonight?"

"Hawkes, I think," Lindsay said. "Stella worked the last three nights, so I'm pretty sure she was off. Oh Mac, what if it was Hawkes?"

"Let's just get this evidence back to the lab and get over to the hospital before we freak out, alright?" Mac suggested, grabbing the final evidence box and heading toward their SUV, Lindsay following closely behind him.

* * *

Sheldon Hawkes smiled to himself as he sat across from his old friend and former colleague, Julia Harper, as they sipped late night coffees at a café in the West Village.

"I still can't believe you're back, Jules," Hawkes commented. "You look wonderful – those years in Minnesota did you good."

"Thanks," Julia smiled shyly. "I loved being back where I grew up, but somehow, it just didn't feel like home anymore. You know, when I left I said I wouldn't miss this city at all, but I guess it just gets in your blood. I missed the lights, and the noises, and the chaos of a twenty-four hour life…in Minnesota, the only thing open after nine is the Dairy Queen."

"I never did see you as a small town girl," Hawkes said.

"Back when we were interns, who would have thought we'd end up like this?" Julia asked. "Me, returning to big city life after a far too long stint in small town family practice, and you, a cop?"

"My career has certainly been anything but ordinary," Hawkes agreed.

"Do you wear a uniform?" Julia asked, her eyebrows raised in curiosity.

"I'm a crime scene investigator," Hawkes said. "I moved straight from the M.E.'s office into the field, so I never went to the academy. Technically, I'm a civilian police employee, not a cop, so no uniform."

"That's too bad," Julia said.

"Why's that?" Hawkes asked curiously.

"I've always had a thing for a man in a uniform," Julia smirked as she took a sip of coffee, pausing as her cell phone began to ring.

"Julia Harper," she said, listening carefully to the person on the other end of the line, occasionally nodding or muttering 'okay'. "I'm on my way now. I'll be there in twenty, tops."

"Duty calls?" Hawkes asked in disappointment.

"We've got three GSWs coming in," Julia said. "Some sort of shoot-out at a crime scene in the West 90s."

"A crime scene?" Hawkes asked in concern. "Did they say if the GSWs were civilians or cops?"

"The call nurse said they were all cops," Julia said, her voice softening as she saw the concern on Hawkes' face and immediately kicked herself for forgetting the tight bond that ran among even a large police force like the NYPD.

"I'm coming with you," Hawkes said, quickly tossing a few bills on the table and pulling out Julia's chair before quickly ushering her out of the café and into his car.


	2. Not That Close

**A/N:** Thank you all so much for the reviews on the first chapter! I am so glad that so many of you seem to be enjoying the story so far! I believe the next chapter will feature the first of many flashbacks that fill in the gaps of how our characters got to where they are right now.

Autumngold, you didn't leave a way to contact you, but I wanted to thank you for checking out the story even though it isn't what you usually read!

Also, thank you to everyone who signed up for a story alert - it really is nice to know that so many of you are going to be following this story. As always, please leave a review to let me know what you think. Good, bad or indifferent, I love getting your feedback and I will always try to respond!

* * *

"Well, thank God you're here with us tonight, Donnie," Flack's mother said as her husband and daughter joined them in the dining room. "We'd better say a little prayer anyway, of course."

Don knew that his mother probably had this down to a routine by now – as a cop's daughter, then as a cop's wife, and now as a cop's mother, he knew that his mother kept that radio turned on even when his father wasn't home and he imagined that she had said more than her fair share of prayers over more than her fair share of ten-double-zeros through the years.

As his mother bowed her head and began praying aloud, Don heard his cell phone begin to ring ominously from the pocket of his coat in the entryway. Hurrying to grab it, he flipped it open as he hovered in the doorway of the dining room.

"Flack here," he said, his family watching while he listened to what the caller had to say.

"Who took the call?" he asked in concern.

"What do you mean, you don't know?" he practically yelled. "It's your job to know, damn it! Was it just Homicide or was CSI on scene as well?"

"Yeah, you're real helpful tonight," he snapped in annoyance. "I assume the bus took 'em to St. Luke's, right?"

"Okay, tell 'em I'm on my way now," Don said, quickly shutting the phone and looking up to meet the concerned stares of his family.

"Your unit, Donnie?" his mother asked, her voice soft with concern for her son.

"Yeah, my unit," Don sighed. "Dispatch doesn't know who was on scene, or who the ten-double-zero was, but I gotta go."

"Call when you know something," his mother said, sighing as her plea was met only with a small grunt as Don grabbed his coat and rushed out the door.

"I'm going with him," Samantha announced, quickly standing and moving to follow her brother.

"Samantha, get back here," Don Flack, Sr. called out as she opened the front door.

Ignoring her father, Samantha slammed the door closed and hurried out into the street, stopping Don just as he was about to turn the key in the ignition. Slipping into the front passenger's seat, she grinned sheepishly as he stared at her.

"I'm coming with you," she declared.

"Sam, go back inside," Don said.

"Hell no," Samantha said. "You expect me to stay there alone with both of them? Sorry, but I'd rather gauge my eyes out with a salad fork than have the two of them gang up on me about what a screw-up I am."

"Nice," Don said, revving up the engine and backing out of the driveway.

"So, you can just drop me downtown and then head wherever you're going," Samantha said. "There's a party down in the Meatpacking District tonight – it's going to be killer."

"What about school?" Don asked. "Shouldn't you be studying?"

"Boring," Sam said. "I'm not even sure I'm going to keep going after this semester, anyway. Come on, Don, you're going to start sounding like Dad."

"I just thought maybe you'd care a bit more after everything you went through," Don said.

"What, you mean spending six months in jail because my parents were too cheap to bail me out?" Samantha asked. "Yeah, I care, Don. I care about having fun while I can. I'm just making up for lost time."

"And you don't care that this is exactly the sort of lifestyle that got you into trouble in the first place?" Don asked in annoyance.

"What does it matter to you?" Samantha asked. "It's my life, Don."

"But it doesn't just affect you, Sam," Don sighed. "For God's sake, do you have any idea what it did to Mom when you got arrested? Do you have any idea how close you came to spending the rest of your life in prison?"

"Here we go again," Samantha rolled her eyes. "Don, I didn't do it. They never had a case to begin with, really. I'm only surprised it took that stupid prosecutor so long to drop the charges."

"You know what? You are so clueless, it boggles my mind sometimes," Don said angrily. "I know I've told you this before - you didn't get off because they had no case, Sam. You got off because someone put their career on the line to stand up for you. You got off because someone I work with cared enough to reexamine your case and then risked her own reputation to get you cleared. _That's_ why you got out, Sam. If it had been up to the system, you'd still be sitting in that eight by ten jail cell right now."

"Look, however it happened, the point is that I got out," Sam said. "And now I'm going to live it up for a while. Anyway, just anywhere down in the low 20s should be good to drop me off. I've got to catch up with Lisa to change before we head out, anyway."

"I am not your personal chauffeur," Don snapped. "And in case you'd forgotten, someone I work with was hurt tonight, Sam. I'm not going one block out of my way to take you to some damn party. I am going to St. Luke's Hospital and that's it. You want to go somewhere else, take the bus."

* * *

Mac's heart raced as he and Lindsay rushed through the doors of St. Luke's Hospital. Glancing around, it would have been obvious to even the most casual observer that an officer was down. The hospital's lobby was literally swimming with blue – Mac thought he counted at least two dozen officers, some on-duty, some off, some patrol officers, some detectives, even a few retired officers stood out among the crowd.

Looking around, Mac's gaze quickly fell on a group of detectives sitting in the far corner of the room. Nudging Lindsay, Mac directed her attention to the group and they both began to make their way through the crowd of officers. As they approached, it was hard to miss the look of anguish on the face of Detective Jessica Angell. Her forehead was covered with a large bandage and the left side of her face was badly bruised, but it was the heavy blood stains on her shirt that instantly drew the attention of both CSIs.

"Jess, are you alright?" Lindsay asked, her voice filled with concern as she slipped into the seat next to the detective.

"Yeah," Angell said, her voice shaking with unusual emotion as her hand lingered on the edge of the bandage. "I just got grazed, nothing serious. I had a few stitches, but the doctor said it'll be fine. A fraction of an inch the other way and that bullet would have had my brains spattered on the floor of that bedroom…if she hadn't pushed me out of the way…"

"That blood is not from a superficial wound," Mac observed, his gaze not moving from the stain on Angell's shirt. "Where did it come from?"

"I was trying to stop the bleeding," Angell said, her eyes filling with tears as she hung her head, unable to look Mac in the eye. "And then she wasn't breathing…I had to do CPR until the paramedics arrived…there was so much blood everywhere…"

"Who else was hit?" Mac asked in confusion.

"Mike O'Connor," Angell said. "Patrol officer from the twenty-sixth precinct. Only been on the job six months…I think he's going to be okay; bullet hit his shoulder, it looked like…"

"You said _she_ wasn't breathing, Jessica," Lindsay said, gently prodding for an answer even as her own fears grew at the detective's reluctance to look her in the eye. "Who else went down?"

"Stella," Angell whispered tearfully, finally casting a guilty look in Mac's direction as she watched the typically collected detective sink numbly into a chair across from her.

* * *

Lindsay looked up and sighed in relief as she saw Danny rush through the hospital's doors. In spite of everything that had happened between them in the last two years, he had still been the first person she'd wanted to see after she heard Angell say Stella's name. As deeply as he had hurt her, as much as he still had the power to hurt her, no one seemed to be able to comfort her like Danny could either.

Looking around the waiting room, Danny felt his heart rate slowly begin to return to normal when he finally saw Lindsay with his own two eyes. He'd known the chances were slim and that it was irrational to think that anyone he was close to had been at that shooting, but that hadn't stopped him from barely breathing until he saw her face.

As he approached the spot was she was sitting, off in the corner, tucked in between Mac and Angell, Lindsay stood quickly and instinctively threw herself into his arms, her head resting softly on his shoulder as the tears streamed down her face. Holding her close to him, Danny gently kissed her forehead and rubbed small circles on her back as he shot a questioning glance at Mac and Angell, his relief fading into confusion as he noticed the bandage on Angell's head. Nothing could have prepared him for the way his heart sank when he saw the female detective mouth 'Stella' in response to his unspoken question.

"Come on, Montana, let's sit down," Danny said softly, slowly guiding Lindsay back into her chair. For what seemed like hours, they simply sat there, Danny holding Lindsay, Mac and Angell staring anxiously at the trauma bay doors, no one daring to speak.

* * *

"Dr. Harper, we need you in here!" a nurse shouted as she rushed out of a trauma room and saw Julia and Hawkes coming in through the staff entrance in the back of the ER.

"I guess this is where I leave you," Hawkes said. "I'm really glad you called, Jules. It was good to see you again."

"You too," Julia said. "Maybe we can plan to do it again sometime?"

"You mean in another six years?" Hawkes teased.

"Okay, how many times do I have to apologize for not keeping in touch?" Julia laughed. "No, not in another six years, Sheldon. Maybe next week?"

"I'd like that," Hawkes agreed. "I'll call you?"

"Alright," Julia said, pausing for a moment as an awkward silence hit the pair. "I guess I'd better go…patient's waiting, you know."

"I'll be out in the waiting room," Hawkes said. "If you happen to be working on one of ours…"

"I'll let you know," Julia nodded, planting a quick kiss on Hawkes' cheek before hurrying off. Smiling slightly, Hawkes turned and headed toward the doors separating the trauma bay from the lobby while Julia headed into the trauma room.

"Someone called for a surgical consult?" Julia asked as the door closed behind her and she stepped into the flurry of activity. "What do we have?"

"Stella Bonasera," one of the nurses replied. "GSW to the chest and abdomen, pressure is holding at one-ten over seventy, pulsox has stabilized at ninety-one."

"Where are we on blood?" Julia asked, moving in to examine Stella.

"She got two units in the field, another two since she got here," the nurse replied.

"Films are back," an intern called out, rushing into the room and hanging three x-rays on the light board.

"Damn it," Julia muttered as she examined the x-rays. "Alright, hang another unit of blood and get her prepped for surgery. Call up to the OR and tell them we'll be there in fifteen minutes."

* * *

"What happened?" Hawkes asked, his concern rising as he approached his colleagues, who had bunkered down in the far corner of the waiting room, away from the crowd of officers continuing to grow in the center of the lobby. "Who's hit?"

"Stella," Danny said quietly, his arm tightening around Lindsay's waist as he said it.

"No," Hawkes sighed. "Is she alright? What happened?"

"They won't tell us anything," Mac said. "Something about privacy laws and patient confidentiality."

"Doesn't she have a medical proxy?" Hawkes asked. "The department should have faxed that all over to them already, right?"

"They did," Mac agreed. "Problem is, it's not any of us."

"It's not?" Hawkes asked in surprise. "I mean, I just assumed it would be you, Mac."

"It used to be," Mac said. "As long as we've been working together, I've always been Stella's proxy, and she's been mine ever since Claire died. I thought I still was her proxy, but according to the nurses, it's not. It doesn't make any sense – Stella wouldn't just change something like that on a whim. She would have told me if she had a concern about me being her proxy. She wouldn't just change it behind my back."

"They didn't happen to tell you who her proxy is, did they?" Hawkes asked.

"They said that violates the rules as well," Mac said in frustration.

"Someone has to know who it is," Danny said, not missing the way Lindsay subtly pulled away as he spoke. "Lindsay?"

"Yeah, I know," Lindsay said quietly. "At least, I have a pretty good idea."

"Well?" Angell asked.

"I can't tell you," Lindsay said. "I don't know for sure, and what I do know, I was sworn to secrecy on. Look, the hospital will contact her proxy, that's their job. We just have to wait."

* * *

Don Flack glanced anxiously around the hospital waiting room, his chest tight as he tried to fight back the feeling of dread that had been rising inside of him from the moment his cell phone had begun ringing at his mother's house.

"Seriously, Don, can't you just give me twenty bucks for a cab?" Samantha whined as she followed him into the hospital.

"Shut up, Sam," Don snapped. "Can you maybe think of someone other than yourself for five minutes of your life?"

"Fine, be that way," Samantha sighed. "I'll just call Lisa and have her come pick me up."

"You do that," Don said, turning back to the waiting room. Finally spotting his coworkers in the far corner, he began pushing his way through the crowd to reach them, Samantha still tagging along just a bit behind him.

_Where's Stella?_ Don thought, apprehensively approaching the group, unsure he wanted to find out what he suspected they were about to tell him.

"What happened?" he asked. "Who got hit?"

"Angell and Stella," Danny said.

"Oh God," Don said, grabbing the back of a chair for support. "Is she…is she alright?"

"Angell is going to be just fine," Mac said reassuringly. "It was just a surface wound, nothing major. She's just gone to find a change of clothes right now."

Lindsay shook her head, knowing that she was the only one in the group who could have imagined that Jessica Angell was most definitely not the 'she' who had Don Flack so worried.

"We don't know much about Stella's condition," Lindsay said, drawing Flack's attention. "She took a more substantial hit, but the doctors haven't been able to tell us anything about her condition yet."

"Why not?" Flack asked in concern. "Shouldn't they know something by now?"

"I'm sure they do," Hawkes said. "Privacy laws say they can't talk to us, though. Only immediate family members, which Stella doesn't have, or her medical proxy. Problem is we don't know who that is – apparently she changed it without telling anyone."

"Right," Don nodded, turning to his sister. "I'm…I'm just gonna go see what I can find out. Sam, you wait here."

"Flack, you're welcome to try," Mac said. "But I doubt you'll find the nurses any more amenable than I did."

Flack simply ignored Mac's comment, fighting his way through the crowd of officers to reach the triage desk. The rest of the team watched in shock as Don exchanged a few words with the nurse at the desk and was buzzed through into the trauma bay almost instantly.

"How'd he do that?" Danny asked in awe. "I know Flack's smooth, but he's not that smooth."

"He's her proxy," Lindsay admitting softly, instantly eliciting curious stares from the rest of the team.

"Flack?" Mac asked, the surprise evident in his voice. "That doesn't make any sense, Lindsay. Flack and Stella are friends, but they're not that close."

Lindsay smiled slightly as she let out a dry laugh at Mac's comment. _If only he knew,_ she thought to herself. _If only they all knew…_

"Look, it's a long story," Lindsay said. "And really, it's not mine to tell. I can't break Stella's confidence like that, guys. It'll probably all come out eventually, but when it does, it won't be through me."


	3. No Regrets

**A/N:** Okay, this chapter is a pretty big one for our main couple. There is a minor flashback in this chapter, although the big flashbacks won't start until the next chapter or the possibly the one after. I know a lot of you will be very anxious to find out exactly how they got to this point, so I'm going to try to get the next chapter up within a few days so that you don't have to wait too long.

As always (and maybe especially now that the big twist is out there), I am eager to hear what you all think, so please leave a review!

* * *

"I just don't get it," Mac said as the team waited impatiently in the lobby for Flack to return. "She changed her proxy to Flack? Why the hell would she do that?"

"I don't know," Danny said in frustration. "But then again, I didn't know the first eight times you asked, Mac."

"Easy, guys," Lindsay said cautiously. "We're all on edge right now, but I really don't need you two punching it out, alright? Just cool it until Don gets back out here."

"Hey, Samantha, right?" Hawkes said, drawing everyone's attention to the brunette standing off to the side of the group.

"Um, yeah," Samantha replied.

"So, what's the deal with your brother and Stella?" Hawkes asked.

"What deal?" Samantha asked.

"What's their relationship?" Hawkes asked. "You're his sister, you ought to know, right?"

"Yeah right," Samantha scoffed. "Don doesn't tell me anything…I mean, really, I don't even know where he lives."

"How do you not know that?" Danny asked. "133rd and Riverside. Not the greatest neighborhood, but he gets a pretty sweet deal on the rent."

"Apartment 7D, right?" Sam asked, smiling as Danny nodded. "Well, I'm glad it's not just me who's out of the loop, then."

"What are you talking about?" Hawkes asked.

"That's not where Don lives," Samantha said. "I went by a few weeks ago, and some weird artsy guy was there. Said the cop who used to live there moved out about six months ago. So clearly keeping me up to date on the ins and outs of his life is not high on Don's list of priorities."

"Six months ago?" Danny asked. "No way. Uh huh…not possible. I think I would know if Flack had moved."

"Now that I think about it, he hasn't had us over to watch a game in a long time," Hawkes commented.

"Hawkes has a point, Danny," Mac pointed out. "When was the last time you were at Flack's place."

"I guess it has been a while," Danny conceded. "But Lindsay takes Allie over every couple of…"

Danny's voice trailed off as he glanced over at Lindsay, who was biting her lower lip and purposefully avoiding his gaze.

"You knew," Danny said conclusively. "You never thought to mention that, Montana? Never thought it might be important to mention that Don had moved? What's with all the secrecy, Lindsay?"

"Can I plead the Fifth on this one?" Lindsay asked sheepishly. "Please?"

* * *

Don Flack stood nervously outside the trauma room, watching through the small glass pane in the door as the nurses moved quietly around Stella's body. Her face was ghostly pale, the bag of blood hanging from the IV pole not doing its job nearly fast enough.

"You can go in, you know," one of the trauma nurses said as she walked up beside him.

"Is she…has she been awake?" Don asked.

"She's been in and out," the nurse said. "They'll be taking her up to surgery soon, but if she wakes up in the next few minutes, I'm sure she'd want to see you before they put her under."

"Yeah, I guess," Don muttered unconvincingly.

"Whatever you were fighting about, it's not important," the nurse said knowingly.

"How did you know we had a fight?" Don asked in confusion.

"Honey, I've been working trauma for almost twenty years," she said. "I've seen a lot of emotion in my days, and guilt is one of the easiest to pick up on. Trust me when I say, no matter what it was, right now it doesn't matter to her and it shouldn't matter to you."

"I don't know," Don sighed.

"Did you cheat on her?" the nurse asked frankly. "Did she cheat on you?"

"What?" Don asked. "God, no, I would never to that to her…and I know Stella would never, ever do that to me, either."

"Then you've got nothing to worry about," the nurse said. "Because let me tell you, I've even seen cheating forgotten in moments like this. So you go in there and you talk to her. You tell her that you're sorry and you tell her that you love her. She needs to hear it, and believe me, you'll regret it if you don't say it while you have the chance."

"Yeah," Don nodded, tentatively pressing his hand against the cool metal door as he slowly made his way into the room, memories of that morning flooding his mind as he made his way to Stella's side…

"_We can't keep this a secret forever, Don," Stella said, looking up at him from her bowl of oatmeal. "People are going to start to notice eventually."_

"_Why can't we just wait until they do?" Don asked. "It's been almost seven months, Stella. No one's picked up on it yet, so I'm not seeing what the rush is."_

"_Don, these are my friends we're talking about," Stella argued. "Your friends, too. Don't you want them to know about this part of your life?"_

"_Of course I do, but you don't know what it's like, Stella," Don sighed. "Constantly having to prove myself, hearing the gossip, all because of who my father is…I don't need to give anyone another reason to talk about me. And believe me, people will talk about this, Stella, and it won't be pretty."_

"_You think I don't get that?" Stella asked angrily. "What, you think it was easy for me walking around being the girl who killed her boyfriend? You think people didn't talk about that behind my back? Trust me, Don, that was no walk in the park either."_

"_So why don't you understand why I think it's better that we just keep this between us?" Don asked._

"_Because this is not the same, Don," Stella insisted. "This isn't some dirty secret that you should be ashamed of. Is that what's going on? You're ashamed? Maybe you think I'd ruin your playboy reputation? Is that it?"_

"_Stel, you know that's not true," Don said, placing a comforting hand on her cheek._

"_Then what is it, Don?" Stella asked, turning away from his touch. "I mean, when we first started seeing each other – or whatever the hell you'd call what we were doing – it was never supposed to get serious, so there was no reason to tell anyone. And yeah, when it did get serious, I know that we were going to tell people, until…until circumstances changed…"_

"_Stella," Don sighed, reaching out as she pulled away again, tears glistening in her eyes._

"_Then we didn't tell people because we weren't sure it was going to last after that," Stella continued, quickly recomposing herself. "We didn't want people to be awkward around us if it didn't work out. Is that what this is, Don? Are you still afraid that we're not going to work?"_

"_No, I'm not," Don said. "Or maybe you've forgotten that you were the one who wanted to bail? Maybe you've forgotten that I'm the one who had to fight for this?"_

"_Why'd you even bother, Don?" Stella spat, grabbing her bag from the hallway. "Why fight for something that you're too ashamed to tell anyone about?"_

"_I am not ashamed of what we have, Stella," Don insisted._

"_Well, you're sure as hell acting like you are," Stella said. "Look, I'm going to be late for work. We'll talk about this tonight."_

"_I'm going to my parents' tonight," Don said, cringing when he saw the look of hurt on face as he brought up the subject of another recent fight._

"_Right," Stella nodded. "Well, we'll talk tomorrow then."_

_And with that, Stella turned on her heel and hurried out of their apartment, leaving Don alone in the kitchen. Sighing heavily, he slammed his foot into the dishwasher as he let out a low growl, silently cursing himself for allowing things to get this complicated._

_As he stood there, blankly surveying the room around him, Don sighed again as a realization hit him: she had left without saying it. For the first time since they had finally said 'I love you' to one another, she had left for work without either of them saying it._

_Don hadn't picked up many good habits from his father, but that was one of them. His father always made sure that he never left the house without telling his mother that he loved her. As he had often told Don when he was younger, when you make your living carrying a gun and chasing the bad guys, you try not to take anything for granted. Don knew the job was too dangerous to miss an opportunity, and if, God forbid, something ever happened to either one of them, he never wanted to regret that it wasn't the last thing he'd said to her…_

"Don?"

Stella's weak voice quickly drew Don's attention back the hospital room. Glancing down, he smiled as he saw her eyes fluttering open, looking around in confusion and fear.

"Hey," Don whispered, leaning down to kiss her gently. "You gave me quite the scare, you know that?"

"Jess?" Stella asked anxiously. "Where's Jess?"

"Shh," Don said softly, running his fingers through Stella's hair. "She's going to be just fine. Mac said it was just a superficial wound; the bullet only grazed her."

"Good," Stella nodded weakly. "That's good. Don?"

"What is it, Stell?" Don asked.

"I'm sorry," Stella said. "This morning…I'm sorry, Don…"

"Hey, don't think about that right now," Don comforted her. "That was my fault, Stella, not yours. You were right, there's no reason we shouldn't tell people."

"Really?" Stella asked in surprise.

"They're gonna figure it out soon, anyway," Don said. "I kinda had to tell a nurse so that I could get back here…they wouldn't even tell Mac what your condition was. When I get back out there, they're gonna want an explanation for why I'm your proxy."

"You can make something up," Stella offered.

"Not a chance," Don laughed. "Stella Bonasera, I love you so much it hurts sometimes, and I'm ready to tell the whole damn world what's goin' on, so while you're up there in surgery, that's exactly what I intend to do."

"So is this going to be a thing with us?" Stella asked, the light tone of her voice clear to Flack despite the pain and weakness he could also hear. "You know, every time I want my way, I just go get myself shot and you cave in?"

"Don't you dare, Bonasera," Don said quickly. "I don't think my heart could handle another night like tonight. I thought…I've lived through some scary stuff, Stella, but I have never in my life been as terrified as I was when Danny said you'd been hit. I just…I don't know what I'd do if you weren't around to keep me in line."

"I'm not…I'm not going anywhere," Stella said, her voice crackling slightly.

"I know," Don whispered, his forehead resting on hers as his thumbs gently wiped the tears from her cheeks. "I love you, Stella."

"I love you too," Stella said, her voice fading away softly as her eyelids fluttered closed again.

"Sleep well, beautiful," Don whispered, gently kissing her forehead as the nurses returned to the room.

"We need to take her up now," said the trauma nurse he'd spoken with earlier. "Surgery's on the fifth floor – there's a waiting room just to your left as you get off of the elevators. Dr. Harper will come find you there when the surgery is finished."

* * *

Don hesitated for just a moment as he walked back into the waiting room, wondering just what sort of reaction he was going to get from the rest of the team, not knowing exactly how much Lindsay had told them while he was with Stella.

Taking a breath to steady his nerves and keep the tears at bay, Don slowly walked toward the group.

"Don, how is she?" Lindsay asked, looking up and being the first to spot him approach the group.

"Is she alright?" Angell asked anxiously.

"What did the doctor say?" Hawkes asked, standing up with the rest of the team to crowd around Flack.

"They're taking her up to surgery now," Don said quietly. "She's…well, you guys know Stella…she's fightin', like she always does. They said we should go wait on fifth floor and the surgeon would come find us when they're done."

"Alright then," Mac said, his tone letting everyone know that, despite their curiosity, now was not the appropriate time for the myriad of questions they wanted to ask. "Let's head on up there."

The team nodded and slowly began to make their way toward the bank of elevators on the other side of the lobby.

"Detective Flack!"

Don turned just before reaching the elevators to find a young nurse hurrying across the lobby to catch up with the group.

"Yes?" Don asked, looking around in confusion.

"I'm sorry to bother you," she said, holding out a small plastic bag. "Dr. Harper asked me to bring this out to you."

"What's this?" Don asked, taking the bag from the nurse's hand.

"Your wife's rings, sir," the nurse explained. "We had to take them off before we took her up for surgery – we thought you might like to hold on to them for her. You know, we try to be careful, but you never know the way things sometimes go missing around here."

"Right," Don nodded. "Thanks."

Turning back toward the group, Don shook his head as he faced the slack-jawed stares of his colleagues.

"What are you all lookin' at?" he asked quickly, pushing his way past them and into the open elevator, jamming his finger into the button for the fifth floor.

Across the room, Samantha paused for a moment, the nurse's words echoing in her head as she watched her brother and his friends step into an elevator. _His wife? _Glancing down at her cell phone, she quickly weighed her options for the rest of the night.

"Aw, hell," Samantha sighed, tossing her phone back into her bag and rushing to catch the elevator. "Screw the party, this is going to be way more interesting."


	4. Best Day, Worst Day

**A/N:** Thank you to everyone who has been reading this story, and thank you to all of you leaving reviews - they are very much appreciated! I know some of you are questioning the jump in Flack and Stella's relationship, as it may have seemed to come out of left field. Just keep in mind that we are about a year and a half ahead of the show's timeline (stopping with episode 5.04, the last one to air before I started writing this), so there is a lot that has happened that we haven't seen yet. There will be plenty of flashbacks over the next few chapters - beginning with this one - so hopefully some things will start making more sense as you read those.

As always, please feel free to ask any questions you want in the reviews - I can't guarantee that I'll be able to answer all of them (I don't want to give too much away!), but sometimes knowing what you guys are most curious about helps me figure out which pieces to deal with first. For example, several of you asked about who Allie was, so I made sure to include that piece in this chapter rather than holding it back for later. So please let me know what you think, because I do take your comments into consideration!

* * *

"Married," Danny muttered as he shook his head in disbelief, watching Flack talking with a surgical nurse across the room. "Flack is married?"

"I think you said that already, Danny," Lindsay observed, shifting uncomfortably on the cold plastic seat in the surgical waiting room. "Seriously, if they know people are going to be waiting out here for hours, couldn't they at least put a cushion on these chairs?"

"We've only been here ten minutes, Lindsay," Hawkes pointed out.

"And they're already uncomfortable," Lindsay said. "That's a pretty bad sign if you ask me."

"As I recall, the waiting room down in labor and delivery isn't much better," Mac informed her. "And we sat there all day waiting for you, Lindsay."

"Well, excuse me for not pushing faster," Lindsay retorted. "Trust me, if I could have gotten it over with sooner, I would have. No one in their right mind would _want_ twenty-nine hours of labor, Mac."

"Believe me, she's right," Danny said. "It exhausted me and all I had to do was hold her hand."

"Didn't she break two of your fingers?" Hawkes asked.

"That is completely beside the point," Lindsay said defensively.

"It was worth it, anyway," Danny assured her. "Broken fingers or not, that was the best day of my life…"

"_One more push, Lindsay," the doctor said encouragingly. "You're almost there, I promise…just give me one more push."_

"_I can't," Lindsay moaned, shaking her head weakly. "I can't do it."_

"_Breathe for me, baby," Danny said, squeezing her hand gently as he grabbed a towel and wiped the sweat from her brow. "I know it hurts, and I know you're tired, but you can do this."_

"_No, Danny," Lindsay said, shaking her head again. "I can't…I don't have anything left to give."_

"_Lindsay, I need you to push on the count of three," the doctor said. "You have to do this, Lindsay."_

"_Montana, look at me…no, not over there, at me," Danny insisted, his hand guiding her face toward his until their eyes met. "We're going to do this, okay? You and me, we're going to do this, just one last time…just focus on me. Can you do that?"_

_Lindsay nodded weakly, her eyes not leaving Danny's face as the doctor's count reached 'three' and she let out an agonizing scream, only stopping when her screams were met by the soft wails of a newborn child._

"_Congratulations," the doctor smiled as he looked up at Danny and Lindsay. "It's a girl."_

"_You hear that, Montana?" Danny laughed. "You did it…we have a daughter."_

"_A girl," Lindsay sighed happily, her head collapsing on the pillows behind her as a nurse wrapped the baby in a blanket and brought her over for Lindsay to hold._

"_Do we have a name yet?" the nurse asked. "Don't worry if you don't. We can just put 'Baby Girl Monroe' on the name card for now."_

"_No," Lindsay said, her eyes not leaving her baby. "She's a Messer__…__my baby's a Messer."_

"_Lindsay," Danny said softly, his voice heavy with emotion. "Are you sure? I thought you said you wanted her to be a Monroe."_

"_I know what I said, Danny," Lindsay said. "But…just look at her. She's the spitting image of you, Danny. This girl's a Messer."_

"_Alright, does 'Baby Girl Messer' have a name?" the nurse asked._

"_Allison," Lindsay said. "Allison Stella Messer."_

* * *

"_It's about damn time," Flack said as the team stood up and crowded toward Danny when he walked into the waiting room with Allison cradled in his arms._

"_Hey, watch your language, buddy," Danny scolded. "My daughter doesn't need to start learnin' to swear just yet."_

"_How's Lindsay?" Stella asked._

"_She's good," Danny said. "Tired, but happy. They've got her restin' now. I just figured you all might like to meet Allie before they take her up to the nursery."_

"_Allie?" Mac asked._

"_Guys, I want you to meet Allison Stella Messer," Danny said proudly._

"_Danny…" Stella said softly, covering her mouth in surprise._

"_You've been a real good friend to Lindsay," Danny said. "She said she couldn't think of a better way to honor that than to give Allie her godmother's name as a middle name."_

"_Hey, I'm the godfather," Flack said. "Does that mean if it'd been a boy, you'd have named him after me?"_

"_Um…no," Danny said, shaking his head as the rest of the team laughed. "Not a chance in hell, buddy…"_

"I wonder if they were together then," Danny said. "For all we know, they were married already and we didn't even know it."

"They weren't," Lindsay said quietly.

"You knew?" Mac asked.

"Well, I didn't know then," Lindsay said. "Not that there was really much to know at that point, I guess. But yeah, I figured it out eventually."

* * *

Don sighed as he returned to the waiting room after checking in with the surgical nurse. The team seemed to be engrossed in conversation on the other side of the room, and he wasn't sure he wanted to interrupt them only to be deluged by questions he wasn't up to answering.

Sinking into a seat across the room from the team, he closed his eyes as he ran his fingers over the edges of Stella's wedding ring in his pocket.

"So, can I tell Mom that you got married without telling her?" Samantha asked as she slipped into the seat next to Don. "Man, her face is gonna be priceless, Don. Hell, this could even beat the time that Bobby "forgot" to tell her he was moving to California!"

"Sam…" Don sighed.

"Okay, fine," Samantha conceded. "You can tell her, then. But you'd better do it soon, because Jimmy Duncan works at the twenty-sixth and I saw him downstairs. When he hears about this and tells his mother…well, you know Mrs. Duncan won't care that it's three in the morning, she'll call Mom."

"I don't care," Don said. "Honestly, Marla Duncan and her big mouth are the least of my worries right now, Sam."

"Right," Sam nodded. "So, you really got married? Seriously?"

"Yeah," Don said. "Seriously."

"Wow," Sam marveled. "How long have I had a sister and didn't even know it?"

"Excuse me?" Don asked in confusion.

"Well, if you're married, that makes your wife my sister…well, sister-in-law, I guess, but whatever," Sam said. "I always wanted a sister, you know. Remember how you used to help me write those letters to Santa every year, begging him to bring me a sister? How long have I had one that you didn't even bother to tell me about?"

"Seven months next week," Don said.

"Seven months?!" Samantha repeated in shock. "Damn, Don…what the hell was with all the secrecy?"

"It seems stupid now," Don said. "We were worried that it would affect our work, that people would talk…well, lately it was more just me that was worried, actually. Stella was ready to tell people."

"Stella…wait, she's the one from the crime lab…the one who came to all my court dates, right?" Samantha asked. "The one with the curly hair who always sat two rows behind you?"

"Yeah, that's Stella," Don said.

"You did good with that one, Donnie," Samantha said, clearly impressed. "She seemed smart and down-to-earth…which is a hell of a lot more than I could say about most of your girlfriends. I liked her a lot. How'd you get a girl like that to go out with you, let alone marry you?"

"Very funny," Don said dryly. "For what it's worth, though, she likes you too. Well, most of the time she likes you."

"When doesn't she like me?" Samantha asked. "Is it because of that whole getting arrested thing?"

"She doesn't like you when we're fighting," Don said.

"Well that doesn't make any sense," Samantha said. "She gets mad at you, so she suddenly doesn't like me?"

"She always says you're kind of the reason we got together in the first place," Don said. "So when things are good, she likes you for that. And when they're not, she doesn't."

"I got you together with your wife?" Samantha asked, smiling slightly. "I know I'm pretty good…but how'd I pull that one off?"

"You got arrested," Don said, his mind flashing back to that fateful night…

_Stella Bonasera sighed as she walked into the dimly lit bar and spotted him slumped over a table in a dark corner of the room, slowly nursing a glass of whiskey. Shaking her head, she quickly made her way across the room to him._

"_Hey," she said softly, slipping in beside him in the booth._

_Glancing up, Don Flack mentally kicked himself. He had known that his coworkers would come looking for him as soon as they heard the news about Samantha, but he had thought he'd come to the one bar that none of them knew he frequented. He had somehow managed to forget that he'd once brought Stella here when he'd wanted to help her unwind after a particularly difficult case without the rest of the team hovering in the background._

"_What are you doing here, Stella?" he asked gruffly, turning his attention back to his drink._

"_You had a rough day," Stella shrugged. "I figured you could use a friend."_

"_Rough?" Don scoffed. "Stella, rough doesn't even come close. My little sister is in jail right now, waiting to be arraigned on murder charges. Murder, Stella, they're charging her with first degree murder. Hellish, nightmarish, worst day of my life – those might apply. Rough, though, that would be the understatement of the year."_

"_I'm sorry," Stella said, at a loss for how to comfort him._

"_She didn't do it, Stella," Don said quietly. "I'd still be pissed at everyone for arresting her if she had done it, but I'd understand. But she's innocent, Stella. Damn it, she didn't kill that guy…I just don't know how to get anyone to believe that."_

"_I believe it," Stella said, placing her hand on top of Don's._

"_You do?" Don asked in surprise. "I know you, Stella – you're all about the evidence. If I were just looking at the evidence, I'd probably think she did it too. You don't have to lie to make me feel better."_

"_You're right, I believe in the evidence, but there are different sorts of evidence, Don," Stella said. "Sure, there's the physical evidence from the crime, but sometimes there's something more important__…__I believe in character evidence too."_

"_Right," Don said, chuckling slightly. "And what exactly has Samantha done to impress you with her good character? Loaning her car to a practical stranger who ended up being an accomplice in a bank robbery? Dating a crack dealer? Or maybe it was when the key to her apartment turned up halfway down a dead guy's throat in Jersey City?"_

"_I'm not talking about her character, Don," Stella clarified. "I'm talking about yours."_

"_Mine?" Don asked in confusion._

"_You're one of the good guys, Don," Stella said. "And believe me, speaking from personal experience, there aren't too many of you left out there. I've seen you sacrifice friendship for the truth before. You've put your neck on the line to the right thing more times than I can count. I trust you, and I trust your judgment, Don. If you tell me that you don't believe Samantha killed that man, then that's what I believe."_

"_Stella Bonasera, I never figured you for the sentimental type," Don teased._

"_Yeah, well, don't think I couldn't still kick your ass, Detective, because I could," Stella said._

"_I have no doubt about that," Don said, signaling to the bartender to bring him another drink._

"_Give me your keys," Stella said, calmly but with a force in her tone._

"_Why?" Don asked._

"_I'm not going to ask you how many of those you've had, or how many you're planning on having," Stella said. "After went you went through today, if you need to get drunk, it's not my place to stop you. As your friend, though, I'm going to take your keys and I'm going to sit here with you until you tell me you've had enough, and then I will make sure you get home safely."_

"_I take it you know which one's mine?" Don asked as he placed his keys in her hand._

"_I know," Stella said, quickly pocketing the keys._

* * *

"_You know, for a guy who had as many whiskeys as you did, you sure don't seem all that drunk," Stella commented as she and Flack waited for the elevator in his building._

"_I'm Irish, what do you expect?" Don laughed. "I can hold my liquor better than most men. I'll let you in on a secret, though."_

"_Oh?" Stella asked, arching an eyebrow._

"_I'm very good at not acting drunk," Don said, leaning in just a bit too close, the warmth of his breath sending shivers down Stella's spine. "But the headache I'll have in the morning would probably rival having your skull crushed by a semi."_

"_I'll just take your word on that," Stella said as the two of them stepped into the elevator. "Which floor are you?"_

"_Seven," Don said, leaning back against the elevator wall, taking a long look at Stella. In his head, she was the type of woman who was so far out of his league, he shouldn't even be bothering to look. Most days, he was surprisingly successful at quelling the thoughts before they managed to take hold in his mind. Tonight, though, he figured the alcohol must have weakened his resolve, because as he stood there watching her rock slightly from one foot to the other as the floors ticked by, it was all he could do to stop himself from reaching out and pulling her into his arms right there in the elevator._

_The feelings didn't subside as he followed her down the hall to his apartment door and watched her slip his key into the lock. He knew it was wrong, but he couldn't help but think of how blissful it would be to forget everything had happened that day and just lose himself in Stella._

"_Don?" Stella said gently, her voice startling him out of his thoughts. "Are you coming in?"_

_Stella gently placed a hand on Don's upper arm, leading him toward the door. There was no way she could have known it, but in Don's mind, the touch sent shockwaves through his body and seemed to rid him of every ounce of self-control he had left._

_As he leaned toward her, Stella's startled gasp was lost as his mouth covered hers and his arms snaked their way around her waist, pulling her flush with his body._

_Stella knew the moment his lips met hers that she should pull away. She knew that Don was drunk, she knew that he was in pain and she knew that if she let things escalate, he would regret her in the morning._

"_Don…" she gasped as they pulled apart, both breathless from the sheer intensity of the kiss. "We shouldn't…"_

_Don bent his head down and once again captured her lips with his, effectively silencing her as his tongue ravenously explored her mouth. "I need this, Stella," he whispered in a pleading tone that made Stella's heart break. "Please, help me forget."_

_Stella's mind worked in overdrive as she tried to process her options. Don was her friend, sure, but she'd have had to deny her own womanhood to say that she'd never fantasized about him. They worked together, though, and as much as they both might want this, she couldn't think of anything that made a working relationship more awkward than a messy one night stand. She briefly considered the fact that the last time she'd been with a man, it had been nearly two years earlier, back when she still thought Frankie Mala was a good guy. But as Don's mouth travelled down toward her neck, she found herself left with just one thought: that no matter how messy tomorrow might be, no matter what regrets the morning might bring, Don wasn't the only one who desperately wanted this tonight._

"_Okay," she whispered, her hands snaking their way into Don's hair and pulling him closer to her. "Okay, Don."_

_That was all the encouragement that Don needed as he took the lead and clumsily pushed Stella into the apartment. There was nothing gentle about the way he pressed her body into the back of the door, slamming it shut as he pinned her beneath his arms. There was nothing loving in the way his kisses attacked her body, nothing slow or caring in the way he tore madly at her clothing. Stella knew as well as he did that tonight wasn't about love. Tonight, Stella accepted that it was not about her, not about what she might have wanted from him. This was about Don, about easing his pain and helping him forget, even if it was only for one night. This was about what he wanted, even as she feared that the morning could only bring regret for at least one of them._

_

* * *

Don groaned as he rolled over in bed, his arm hitting the mattress where he had expected to find a warm body. As he squinted into the bright sunlight that was streaming into his apartment, he wondered if his memories of the night before were all in his head. Had things really gone that far?  
_

_As he rolled back to the other side, he found a bottle of Tylenol waiting on his bedside table with a glass of water, but he forced himself out of bed without taking anything, determined that he could handle a simple hangover headache without any sort of help._

_Stumbling his way into the kitchen to start his coffeemaker, Don smiled when he found a fresh pot already waiting for him and a handwritten note taped to the machine._

Don,

Don't be a hero – get back in there and take the damn painkillers. Trust me, you'll be glad you did, and so will everyone who doesn't have to listen to you complain at work this afternoon. I called the station and told them you wouldn't be in until one.

Stella

P.S. You ripped my new shirt, so I took one of your jackets. I figured it was only fair.

_Don couldn't help but laugh slightly at how well she seemed to know him, even as he continued to wonder exactly where the events of the previous night had left the two of them. Sighing, he set the note down on the counter and made his way back into the bedroom to find the bottle of Tylenol._

_Glancing into his closet, he shook his head when he realized that his favorite vintage New York Yankees jacket was missing. The jacket was slightly big on him, so he could only imagine how it hung on her small frame. Still, the thought of Stella walking around New York City in his jacket made him smile, as though that jacket had somehow marked her as his, even if only for a night._


	5. Fault

**A/N:** As always, thank you so much to everyone who has been reviewing - you all are fantastic! I'm sorry I haven't gotten back to all of you yet, but I figured you all would enjoy the new chapter sooner rather than later, so I put the review replies off a bit. I should be caught up soon, though. There's a lot of information in this chapter, and it's pretty close to the longest chapter I've ever written for a story, so I hope you all enjoy it!

_

* * *

Don groaned as his supervisor handed him yet another stack of old case files that needed reviewing. Apparently, someone had made the decision that he shouldn't be out in the field the day after the Jersey City P.D. had nabbed his sister. If he were being honest, his headache alone ought to have been enough to keep him desk-bound that day, but he was still itching to get back out there, if for no other reason than that the adrenaline would distract him from his problems._

_It didn't help that every single person in the department seemed to be walking on eggshells around him that afternoon, as though they were afraid that he might break under the pressure. Even Danny, who could usually be counted on to lighten his mood with some wise-crack or other, seemed to be unsure how to handle himself around Flack in the wake of his sister's arrest._

_Further complicating matters for Don was the fact that he'd been at work nearly four hours and hadn't seen so much as a glimpse of Stella. He was beginning to wonder if she was deliberately avoiding him to prevent an awkward scene after their night together._

"_Hey Don," Jessica Angell said as she walked over to his desk on perched on the edge, grabbing a case file from the top of his pile and flipping through the pages._

"_Jess," Don nodded curtly, not looking up from the files he was pretending to read._

"_I'm really sorry about your sister," Jess said softly. "This must all be really difficult for you…you know, if you need to talk, I'm here."_

"_Nothin' to talk about," Don said. "She didn't do it."_

"_Don, I know she's your sister, but they've got a pretty solid case," Jess said. "I get that you wouldn't want to believe that your sister was capable of something like that, but…"_

"_She's not," Don said, his limited patience wearing dangerously thin. "I don't give a damn what they have on her, I know my baby sister, and she is not a murderer."_

"_I'm just…" Angell began, but was quickly interrupted by a voice behind her._

"_Hey Flack, would you get your ass over here?" Stella called out from the doorway of the bullpen, one hand on her hip while the other waved a case file in the air. "I can't read a single damn word you scrawled in this file in that chicken-scratch you call handwriting and the D.A.'s all over me to get it cleaned up for him by the end of the day."_

"_I'm coming," Don sighed, slowly easing himself out of his chair, nodding briefly to Angell before heading out of the bullpen and following Stella down the hall to a conference room._

"_Alright, give me the file," Don said as Stella closed and locked the door behind them._

_Stella smirked slightly as she tossed the file folder down on the table, unable to hold back a light laugh at the look of utter confusion on Don's face as he opened it to find a copy of the lab's expense reports._

"_I lied," Stella said, shrugging her shoulders as she quickly closed the blinds. "There is no file."_

"_Then what…" Don muttered in confusion._

"_You looked like you could use a break," Stella said. "Plus, I was sort of concerned that you were about to bite poor Angell's head off back there, so I figured I'd give you an excuse to get out for a little while before you hurt somebody."_

"_They're all so damn sympathetic," Don sighed. "As though she died or something…it's like they've already fast-forwarded to her conviction. Jersey P.D. claims they've got a rock-solid case, so no one here even thinks to question whether or not she actually did it."_

"_They mean well," Stella said, knowing the words sounded as pathetic to him as they did to her._

"_Yeah, well, that doesn't mean I have to like it," Don said. "Even Mac and Danny were actin' like she's already servin' a life sentence. For God's sake, whatever happened to innocent until proven guilty?"_

"_It's a nice theory, but I don't think that concept really exists on our side of the law," Stella said. "We just have to trust the system, Don…she's innocent, so something will come up to clear her sooner or later."_

"_Sooner would be nice," Don said. "I just feel like I'm letting her down, Stel…I mean, I can't even post her bail."_

"_Why not?" Stella asked._

"_Cause the damn self-righteous judge set it at half a million dollars," Don said angrily. "My parents aren't helping at all – probably my dad's doing, I'd guess. And I certainly don't have the money to bail her out and pay for the lawyer."_

"_And she doesn't have any money?" Stella asked._

"_Of course not, she spends it all on parties and booze. I even called my brother Bobby out in California…he said he'd send what he could, but money's a little tight right now, seein' as he and his partner just had their second baby – another little girl for Uncle Donnie to spoil," Don said, smiling slightly as he shifted momentarily from concerned brother to proud uncle. "I'll show you pictures later, this one's a real cutie."_

"_I'm sure she is," Stella said. "What's her name?"_

"_Piper Brianne," Don said. "She's gonna have spunk, that one…she's only three weeks old and she's already got this mess of flaming red hair and these piercing little green eyes. I told Bobby he'd better start installing deadbolts now, 'cause that girl's gonna have 'em knocking down the door."_

"_Your mother must be thrilled to have a granddaughter," Stella commented._

"_Not exactly," Don said, his face darkening at the thought. "She doesn't know. My parents haven't spoken to Bobby in nearly fifteen years…but that's a whole other family scandal right there."_

"_I'm sorry," Stella said sincerely._

"_Nothing I can do about that one…I just wish there was more I could do for Sam," Don said. "She's tough, but God only knows what'll happen to her if she stays in jail, Stel."_

_Stella just nodded, standing behind Don with a supportive hand on his shoulder, unable to think of anything else to say that could offer any comfort._

"_Hey Stella?" Don asked, finally breaking the silence that had once again descended upon them._

"_Yeah, Don?" she asked._

"_Did ya have to take my favorite jacket?" Don asked._

"_I don't know," Stella smirked slightly. "Did you have to rip my sixty dollar blouse?"_

"_That thing cost sixty dollars?" Don asked in shock, shaking his head. "Awfully flimsy fabric for sixty dollars, Stella."_

"_You want the jacket back, Flack?" Stella asked._

"_Nah," Don said. "You can keep it, but be good to it – that thing's a collector's item, you know." _

* * *

"Hey Don," Lindsay said, slipping into the seat next to Don, drawing him out of his thoughts and back to reality. Looking up, he saw Hawkes, Angell and Danny standing behind Lindsay, confusion mixed with fear and sympathy in their expressions. Mac stood slightly back from the group, his eyes resting on Flack, as though he were internally debating whether to comfort the man or punch his lights out.

"I'm going to go make a phone call," Samantha said quickly, heading to the other side of the room to give her brother some privacy with his friends.

"How you holding up, man?" Danny asked. "Did the nurse have anything to say?"

"Not really," Don said. "Just that they'd taken her in and that someone would come out to update us every hour or so. I just…I don't understand how this happened."

"It was my fault," Angell said softly, drawing everyone's attention.

"I'm sure that's not true," Lindsay said. "I know you're feeling guilty, Jess, but it's not like you shot her."

"That's the problem, Lindsay," Angell sighed, sinking into a chair across from Don and Lindsay, her eyes sparkling with unshed tears. "I didn't shoot anyone."

"What do you mean?" Don asked in confusion.

"I froze," Angell admitted. "It was almost like it was happening to someone else, and I was just watching…I couldn't even move. It was supposed to be a simple call, completely routine, we should have been in and out in under an hour…I mean, it was a suicide, for Christ's sake, a damn suicide."

"What exactly happened, Jess?" Lindsay asked.

"I was going through the apartment, mostly just waiting for Stella to finish bagging up the evidence so I could sign the evidence sheets and she could get them back to the lab," Jess said. "I wasn't even supposed to be working tonight – I've been pulling triple overtime on the Mendoza case, so I was due off tonight. When the call came in, though, everyone was headed up to that double on the Upper East Side, so I figured I could handle one more case before I headed home. I don't know, maybe I was just so tired that I wasn't thinking clearly…"

"We've all been there," Danny assured her. "We all push ourselves past our limits when the job requires it. That doesn't mean you did anything wrong, Jess."

"First-on-scene told me the place was clear," Angell continued. "There wasn't any reason to think it wouldn't be…the victim didn't have a boyfriend, lived alone, no family in the area. Stella insisted she heard something from the bedroom, though."

"You didn't hear anything?" Mac asked.

"I wasn't sure…I thought it was just a cat or some other pet the officers had missed…or maybe the wind from an open window, I don't know," Angell said. "I didn't think it was anything serious, though. I should have been paying more attention, I should have listened…if I had been more alert, maybe they wouldn't have gotten that shot in…"

"They?" Danny asked.

"When we entered the bedroom, there were two men going through the vic's closets," Angell explained, her voice shaking as she recalled the events that had occurred just a few hours earlier. "They were just tearing through them, like they were looking for something. We did it all by the book, drew our weapons, announced our presence, ordered them to turn around, and them…bam! There was no warning, nothing, they just started shooting. I barely even had a chance to react…by the time I registered that they were shooting at me, I was on the ground."

"The force of the shot knocked you down?" Hawkes asked in confusion.

"No," Angell said. "I don't really remember it happening, but when I hit the ground, Stella was right over me. She pushed me to the ground…got me just far enough out of the way that the bullet just grazed me. After that, a lot of it is pretty hazy…I remember O'Connor and his partner rushing in, calling for back-up and returning fire. Stella was holding me down…I think she saw the blood and thought I'd been hit worse than I was…she was sort of kneeling by me, shooting back…and then the next thing I knew, she collapsed next to me. I tried to stop the bleeding while we waited for the EMTs…and then she wasn't breathing, so I started CPR."

"How long was she down?" Hawkes asked.

"I don't know," Angell said. "I don't really have any sense of how long I kept that up…the next clear memory I have is when the paramedics pulled me off of her and took her away…there was just so much blood everywhere…"

"We got the bastards, though, didn't we?" Don asked hopefully.

"One was pronounced at the scene, but the other got away," Angell admitted. "He had a hit to his shoulder, but he made it out the fire escape…there were only the four of us on the scene – me, Stella, O'Connor and his partner. I was trying to keep Stella from bleeding out, and O'Connor's partner was trying to do the same for him. We couldn't just leave them there to go after the guy…protocol says you stay with a wounded officer…even if it didn't, I couldn't have just left her like that…"

"We should be there," Lindsay said, mostly to Mac. "We should be collecting evidence, processing the scene, tracking him down…Mac, we should be there right now."

"You know Sinclair won't let us anywhere near that scene," Mac said. "We're too close; anything we collected would be tainted in court by our personal connection to Stella."

"Well, who else are they gonna send?" Don asked in frustration. "You guys are the best damn team the department's got…they can't have second best investigating something like this, Mac. What if they miss something?"

"All of my investigators are good, Don," Mac insisted. "You know that as well as anyone."

Mac paused as his cell phone began to ring in his pocket. Glancing down at the caller ID, he sighed. "Speak of the devil…here's Sinclair now," he said, quickly excusing himself from the group to answer his superior officer's call.

* * *

"So, here's what I don't get," Hawkes commented as he and Danny poured themselves cups of coffee from the cart in the hallway. "Why did Lindsay know about Flack and Stella, but none of us did? I mean, you would think if Stella was going to confide in someone, it would have been Mac. And with Flack, I would have thought it would be you…he didn't tell you, did he?"

"No, he definitely did not," Danny said. "But you're right, as close as Lindsay and Stella are, it really doesn't make much sense for her to be the only one to know."

"You think she'd be upset if I asked her?" Hawkes asked.

"Asked who what?" Lindsay asked, walking up behind the two men to get a cup of coffee.

"He wants to ask you how it is that you seem to be the only one who knows anything about what's going on with Flack and Stella," Danny said.

"I'm observant," Lindsay said, shrugging her shoulders as she poured her coffee. "Seriously, the last few months, you all just seemed hell-bent on proving my theory that men are blind as bats when it comes to anything to do with personal issues."

"That's not true," Danny insisted.

"Guys, I could blow your minds with the details that everyone in the lab has missed over the last year or so," Lindsay said. "Literally. It would blow your minds, both of you. Just…blow them to pieces. I can't describe it any other way."

"So what, you just observed them?" Danny asked. "Did they really act all that different?"

"Oh no, me finding out at first, that was pure luck," Lindsay said, shaking her head as her mind drifted back to that afternoon…

"_Don't laugh, I'm serious about this, Stella. My mother coming is bad news," Lindsay insisted as she stood in Stella's kitchen, carefully adjusted her two month old daughter in her arms. "She's going to spend her entire visit giving me the same lecture I get every time I call home."_

"_Which lecture is that again?" Stella asked._

"_The one about how I'm insane to think I can be a mother and a cop at the same time," Lindsay said. "Oh, and I'm sure that while she's at it, she'll throw in the one about how disappointed she is that I'm not married, that I'm doing this as a single mother."_

"_Well, have you told her that it isn't as though you were in this all by yourself?" Stella asked. "I mean, have you explained to her that Danny is involved, even though you guys aren't together?"_

"_I've tried, but my mother is a very traditional woman, so in her mind, if we're not married, I'm in this on my own," Lindsay said. "I don't even want to think about what she'll do if she ever finds out that Danny actually proposed and I turned him down."_

"_Would she really be upset with you for that?" Stella asked. "I mean, yeah, you and Danny love each other, but he cheated on you. Just because you two had a child together, that doesn't automatically erase that and it doesn't make it any easier for you to forgive him. And you can't start a marriage with the sort of doubts you were feeling at the time. That's a recipe for divorce, Lindsay."_

"_You know, a rational person would probably agree with you," Lindsay said. "My mother, though, has never been mistaken for a rational woman…especially when one of her children is involved."_

"_I've heard most mothers rarely are," Stella said. "Although, I suppose that means that we'll be adding you to the irrational list now."_

"_Very funny…oh, damn it!" Lindsay exclaimed as Allie spit up all over her shoulder. Using her free hand to grab a towel from the counter, Lindsay tried in vain to get rid of the marks. "Great, and I don't have time to go home and change before I pick Mom up at the airport. Now she's going to think that I'm a slob on top of everything else!"_

"_No, she won't," Stella said, taking Allie out of Lindsay's arms. "You seem to forget that I have a closet filled with shirts that are pretty close to your size. Go pick something out while I clean Allie up."_

"_Thank you," Lindsay sighed as she rushed toward Stella's bedroom._

"_See, Allie," Stella whispered to the baby. "What was I saying about irrational? We won't tell your mommy that we think that, though, will we?"_

"_Hey Stella?" Lindsay shouted questioningly._

"_What is it, Lindsay?" Stella asked, carrying Allie down the hall and into the bedroom._

"_Care to explain what the hell this is?" Lindsay asked accusingly, holding up the large Yankees jacket that Stella instantly recognized as the one she'd taken from Flack's apartment after their first night together._

"_It's a jacket," Stella shrugged, wondering just what Lindsay was thinking. "What's the big deal?"_

"_See this stain here?" Lindsay asked, pointing to a tiny brownish-red mark on the edge of the left cuff._

"_What about it?" Stella asked in confusion._

"_It's ketchup," Lindsay said. "And I put it there."_

"_What are you talking about?" Stella asked, the sinking feeling in her stomach telling her that Lindsay knew exactly who that jacket actually belonged to._

"_When we first started dating, Danny thought it would be fun for me to go to a Yankees game with him and some of the guys," Lindsay said. "So, we went with Hawkes and Flack. All in all, it wasn't exactly my cup of tea – I'm more a football girl, myself. Anyway, the highlight of the night was the look on Flack's face when I spilled ketchup on his prized Yankees jacket. Right here, on the edge of the left cuff. So, care to explain to me how Don Flack's jacket ended up in your closet?"_

"_I borrowed it," Stella said nonchalantly, hoping that Lindsay would get the hint and drop the subject._

"_I find it very difficult to believe that Don just let you borrow this thing," Lindsay said. "This jacket is like the holy grail or something to him, Stella. No way would he let it out of his sight, let alone let you borrow it. And that's not to mention all these other shirts here that look like they'd fit him better than they'd fit you."_

_As if to demonstrate her point, Lindsay turned and motioned toward the end of the closet, where Stella had hung three of Don's t-shirts and two of his dress shirts._

"_What are you getting at, Lindsay?" Stella asked nervously._

"_Honestly, I have no clue," Lindsay said. "I'm confused as hell here, Stella. What's going on? I mean, these are Don's shirts, aren't they?"_

"_Yeah, they are," Stella admitted._

"_So what the hell are you doing with Flack's clothes in your closet?" Lindsay asked. "And stop dancing your way around the subject, because I really don't have a ton of time until I have to go get my mother, but I'm not leaving here without some answers."_

"_I may have worn them on home on occasions when I didn't have anything else to wear when I left," Stella said._

"_Keep going," Lindsay said. "Why didn't you have anything else to wear? What happened to what you wore there? And where is 'there', anyway?"_

"_Flack's apartment," Stella admitted sheepishly. "And I didn't have anything else to wear because…well, okay this is a little embarrassing…the times that I borrowed a shirt, it was because…well, what I wore there sort of got ripped."_

"_How did…oh my God," Lindsay gasped as the realization suddenly hit her. "Stella Bonasera, how could you not tell me that you've been dating Don Flack?"_

"_I'm not sure dating is exactly the right word," Stella said. "We've been sleeping together…sort of exclusively, too…but I'm just not sure dating is the right word."_

"_Why not?" Lindsay asked._

"_Well, dating implies that whatever's going on between us involves some sort of activity outside of the confines of an apartment," Stella said._

"_And how does that not apply to you?" Lindsay asked in confusion._

"_Well, whatever it is that Don and I are doing, it doesn't involve anything outside our apartments," Stella said, pausing for a moment as a thought occurred to her. "Okay, that's not entirely true…there was that one time in the supply closet on the fifth floor…but other than that, never outside of our apartments."_

"_Oh my God," Lindsay repeated, her voice shaking as though she couldn't decide whether to yell at Stella or just laugh. "So, you're not dating?"_

"_I'm not even sure you could call it a relationship," Stella said._

"_What then?" Lindsay asked. "Friends with benefits?"_

"_Something like that," Stella agreed. "Every time it happens, we tell each other it isn't going to happen again, even though I think by now we both know that it's a lie. But beyond, well, bedroom activities, there's nothing. He doesn't want anything more, I know that."_

"_And what about you?" Lindsay asked. "Do you want more?"_

"_I honestly don't know," Stella sighed. "The whole thing was never supposed to be more than one night. There's no point in thinking long-term, though, because it's simply never going to happen. What we have right now, it's just a distraction from how crappy life can be…granted, it's a really enjoyable distraction, but still, I know he just thinks of it as a distraction."_

"_And you're okay with that?" Stella asked._

"_Surprisingly, I am," Stella said. "It's kind of refreshing, actually. It's the first relationship I've had in a long time that doesn't have any pressure, any expectations…we both know what we're getting out of it and we both enjoy it."_

"_How long has this been going on?" Lindsay asked curiously._

"_Um, remember the day his sister got arrested?" Stella asked. "It started that night."_

"_Wait, that was over three months ago," Lindsay said. "Do you mean to tell me that you've been sleeping with Don Flack for three months and you haven't said a single word about it? Whatever happened to the Stella who couldn't keep a secret?"_

"_I told you, it isn't that big of a deal," Stella insisted. "There isn't even much to tell, Lindsay. It's not like it's a regular thing or anything. It just sort of happens whenever one of us has had a particularly bad day."_

"_Who else knows about this?" Lindsay asked._

"_No one," Stella said. "And it had better stay that way, Lindsay. You cannot tell a soul. Do you have any idea how awkward it would be around the station if word of this got out?"_

"_My lips are sealed," Lindsay said, giggling slightly before adding, "Although, if I'm never able to look at Flack in quite the same way, I blame you. Now, when you say that your shirt was ripped, what exactly are we talking about here? A little tear?"_

"_Lindsay…" Stella said, a warning in her tone._

"_Oh, come on," Lindsay pleaded. "Stella, I've been living like a nun ever since I broke it off with Danny four months ago. Having a baby isn't exactly going to help me land dates, either, I'm sure of that. Can't you let me live vicariously through you just a little bit? Please?"_

"_Well, I guess it wouldn't hurt to tell you that Don is sometimes a little bit impatient…let's just say, that first night, the shirt was in three pieces by the time it hit the floor," Stella admitted, joining Lindsay as the two of them broke out in laughter._


	6. Steals and Deals

**A/N: **Thank you so much to everyone who continues to read and review - there weren't nearly as many reviews on the last chapter, which I hope is just a sign that people are busy with the holidays and not that people have stopped enjoying the story!

* * *

"Problem, Mac?" Lindsay asked as Mac walked up behind Danny and Hawkes, slamming his phone shut and stuffing it violently into his pocket.

"You could say that," Mac said angrily.

"What's going on?" Hawkes asked.

"Sinclair's taking the case away from our lab," Mac said.

"What do you mean, taking it away?" Lindsay asked. "He can't do that. Who'll process the evidence?"

"Seems Sinclair and the mayor have decided that everyone in the lab is either too close to Stella or not experienced enough to work the case," Mac said. "We'll still have NYPD detectives on the case, but all the evidence is going to be handled by an outside lab."

"Which lab?" Danny asked.

"He wouldn't say," Mac said. "Whoever it is, it doesn't sit right with me. Even if it can't be our team, it ought to at least be NYPD investigators. I just don't understand what the hell Sinclair was thinking."

"This is all wrong," Lindsay said. "Another lab won't give it the same attention we would. It just won't be the priority it would for our lab. How can he do this?"

"It doesn't make sense," Danny added. "We've worked cases before where we were connected to the victims – hell, you ran the investigation when Stella shot Frankie Mala. How the hell is this different?"

"I don't know," Mac sighed. "But I can guarantee you that Sinclair's going to get a piece of my mind the next time I see him."

* * *

"Okay, I've been thinking," Samantha said as she returned to her seat next to Don.

"Didn't know you still knew how to do that," Don commented. "Hope you didn't strain a muscle or somethin'."

"Very funny," Samantha said, shaking her head. "No, listen, what you're always telling me when you get mad at me – the part about how I'm only not in prison right now because of something someone else did."

"What about it?" Don asked.

"It was Stella, wasn't it?" Samantha asked. "She found whatever it was that cleared me, right?"

"Yeah, she did," Don confirmed.

"So, what was it?" Samantha asked eagerly. "What bit of evidence did the Jersey guys miss?"

"I don't know," Don admitted. "I don't even know for sure that they missed anything. I just know that Stella found somethin' that got you off."

"Oh come on," Samantha sighed. "You think you can't trust me or something, Donnie? Just tell me what it was that she found."

"No, I'm serious, Sam," Don said. "It isn't that I don't trust you – although to be honest, I'm not entirely sure I do. Regardless, though, I actually don't know. She never told me."

"What, and you never asked?" Samantha said in disbelief.

"Oh, I asked," Don said. "Whatever it was, she wasn't telling_…_"

"_You called?" Stella said as she slipped into the booth in the back of the diner down the street from Don's apartment, finding him already waiting for her._

"_Yeah," Don nodded just as the waitress arrived with their order. "I went ahead and ordered the usual, hope you don't mind."_

"_Nope," Stella said, grabbing a sweet potato fry and glancing up at Don. "So, what's on your mind, Flack?"_

"_Got a call from Samantha's lawyer today," Don said._

"_Good news?" Stella asked._

"_It seems the district attorney's office is going to drop all the charges first thing in the morning," Don said. "By lunchtime, she'll be a free woman again."_

"_Don, that's fantastic," Stella said, smiling as she reached across the table to grab his hand._

"_You know, you don't sound all that surprised," Don commented._

"_What do you mean?" Stella asked._

"_What did you do, Stella?" Don asked. "Don't get me wrong, I'm thrilled Sam's getting out, but I need to know what you did."_

"_What makes you think that it was something I did?" Stella asked._

"_Buddy of mine over in the Jersey City P.D. called," Don said. "Said he'd been waiting to testify in court today and saw somethin' curious. Wanted to know if I knew of any reason an NYPD crime scene investigator and the head of the New Jersey Crime Lab would spend three hours in the Hudson County D.A.'s office."_

"_Is that so?" Stella asked nervously._

"_Yeah, that's so," Don said. "He described you to a T, Stella. It doesn't take a detective to make the connection between that meeting and Sam suddenly getting cleared, so don't even try to tell me it was about somethin' else."_

"_I won't," Stella said. "The meeting was about your sister's case."_

"_And?" Don asked. "What exactly did you find, Stella? How did you convince them to drop the case?"_

"_I can't tell you," Stella said._

"_Why the hell not?" Don asked._

"_It's not something you need to know," Stella said. "I made a deal and I'm not at liberty to disclose the terms of that deal. You should understand that, Don. I can't tell you."_

"_That's bullshit, Stella," Don snapped. "If you're doing something to get Sam out, I need to know."_

"_Why, Don?" Stella asked. "Why do you need to know?"_

"_So I know what I owe you," Don said. "I can't just walk around not knowing what exactly it is I owe you, Stella. I need to know what you did so I can know how to repay you."_

"_Owe me," Stella repeated incredulously. "My God, Don. What, do you think I'm going to hold this over your head? That I'm going to be calling in favors for years?"_

"_Stella…" Don said cautiously._

"_No," Stella interrupted, her eyes glistening with tears. "I cannot believe you would think that that's why I did this. Do you honestly believe that I would do this just to get one up on you? To have something to hold over your head?"_

"_I don't…" Don tried to speak again._

"_I did it because I care about you, Don," Stella said. "Yeah, part of the reason I did it was because Samantha is innocent, and I wanted to see justice done…but mostly, I did it for you. Not because I want you to owe me anything, though. I did it because I couldn't stand to see you hurting like that, Don. I did it because I lo…you know what? I shouldn't even be justifying myself to you. I'll see you around, Don."_

_Stella quickly gathered her things and hurried out of the diner, ignoring Don's calls after her._

"_I'll just add this one to your tab, Detective," their waitress commented as she walked up next to the booth. "You'd better hurry after that girlfriend of yours."_

"_She's not…" Don began, but was stopped when the older woman laughed and held up a hand._

"_I know, I know," she said. "You tell me every time the two of your come in here. She's not your girlfriend. I believe that like I believe my deadbeat ex-boyfriend has a beachfront house in Phoenix."_

"_Arizona's a land-locked state," Don said in confusion._

"_You're not the brightest bulb in the box today, are you, Detective?" the waitress laughed. "Now get out of here and go after that girl before I change my mind and decide to make you make you pay your whole tab."_

"_I'm going, I'm going," Don muttered. "Thanks, Shirley."_

"_Any time, Detective," Shirley smiled. "Let's just not make a habit of it, 'kay?"_

* * *

"_Stella, wait!" Don shouted, running down the street to catch up with her, nearly colliding with her as she whirled around to face him, the anger and hurt still flashing in her eyes._

"_What, Don?" she snapped._

"_I'm sorry," Don said, slightly out of breath. "I'm so sorry, Stella. I shouldn't have reacted like that…I do appreciate what you did for Sam, more than you could ever know."_

"_It isn't that I don't want to tell you, Don," Stella said. "It's just, I swore I wouldn't tell anyone, and it isn't that I don't trust you, or that I think you're going to tell anyone, I just…look, what went down today, it was big."_

"_How big?" Don asked in concern._

"_Big enough," Stella said vaguely._

"_Stella," Don said cautiously. "How big?"_

"_When I walked I walked into the district attorney's office, I knew that if things didn't go exactly as I hoped, there was a very real chance that…" Stella paused for a moment, taking a breath to steady the nerves that came up at the mere thought of what she had done. "There was a real chance that I was going to…well, that I would lose my badge."_

"_Stella, what the hell did you do?" Don asked softly._

"_Well, it all depends on how you look at it," Stella said. "I like to see it as two professional women exchanging favors, but I could also see how other people might see it as something else."_

"_Like what?" Don asked._

"_Well, I suppose a lot of people would interpret what I did this morning as me blackmailing the Hudson County district attorney," Stella admitted._

"_You blackmailed an elected official?" Don asked in disbelief. "For my sister?"_

"_Well, as I said, I don't think it was blackmail," Stella said. "But I could understand how District Attorney Bartlett might have seen it that way, which is one of the reasons I was concerned for my job."_

"_There were other reasons?" Don asked. "What else did you do?"_

"_That part I really can't tell you," Stella said._

_Don nodded, silently considering everything that Stella had told him._

"_I'm sorry I overreacted," he said eventually._

"_I suppose I can forgive you," Stella said, smiling slightly._

"_You know," Don observed as he slipped his arm around Stella's waist and the two of them began moving down the street toward his apartment. "There is one thing that I really would have loved to see."_

"_What's that?" Stella asked._

"_You trying to blackmail Janine Bartlett," Don said. "That woman is terrifying, Stella."_

"_Oh, you haven't seen anything," Stella laughed. "There were moments this morning when I thought she was actually going to strangle me with her bare hands. Fortunately, I can be just as terrifying…especially when the evidence is on my side."_

* * *

"Hey," Danny said as he walked up behind Lindsay, who was staring absentmindedly at a hospital bulletin board, her arms crossed protectively over her chest.

"Hi," Lindsay said, turning to face him.

"Whatcha thinking about?" Danny asked.

"Stella," Lindsay said.

"Right," Danny nodded.

"She's…she's going to pull through this, you know," Lindsay said. "She has to…she just…I don't know what I'd do without her, so she has to come through this alright."

"I know," Danny said sadly.

"She's pretty much the only reason I'm still here," Lindsay admitted. "Did you know that?"

"No," Danny said cautiously. "What exactly do you mean by 'here'?"

"New York," Lindsay said. "And don't get me wrong…I'm glad I stayed, I'm glad that I'm still here. It's the right place for me, and for Allie…I'm just saying, if it weren't for Stella, I don't think I'd have stayed."

"You…you would have taken Allie away?" Danny asked nervously.

Lindsay sighed as she looked at the crushed expression on Danny's face, almost wishing that she could take back what she'd said. "It was a long time ago, Danny," she explained. "I was angry and hurt and I just couldn't see myself here anymore. I was running on hormones and emotion, and I probably would have regretted it…but yeah, I'm fairly certain I would have run straight back to Bozeman if Stella hadn't been there to talk me down off that ledge…"

"_Lindsay?" Stella said in confusion, pulling open her front door to find her friend standing on the doorstep, tears streaming down her face. "Lindsay, what's wrong? Is it the baby?"_

"_No," Lindsay shook her head, her hand resting protectively on her swollen belly. "It's…the baby's fine, but I'm…I just came to say goodbye, really."_

"_What do you mean, goodbye?" Stella asked, concern in her voice as she stepped back and ushered the younger woman into her apartment._

"_I'm leaving, Stella," Lindsay admitted tearfully. "I just, I have to get out of here…I already talked to my sister, she said I can stay with her when I get back to Bozeman…"_

"_What are you talking about?" Stella asked, her concern growing by the minute. "Come sit down and talk to me, kiddo…whatever's going on, we'll figure it out. Do you want me to call Danny?"_

"_No!" Lindsay exclaimed, following Stella into the living room. "I can't…I don't want to see him…I can't even look at him, Stella."_

"_What did he do?" Stella asked knowingly, taking a seat beside Lindsay on the couch._

"_I thought I could forget," Lindsay said. "I thought I could move on, you know? I thought, if I just gave it enough time, that stupid feeling would go away and we could go back to the way things were."_

"_I'm afraid that I'm not following, Lindsay," Stella said in confusion._

"_Do you remember last year, when that boy in Danny's building was killed?" Lindsay asked. "Ruben Sandoval?"_

"_Yeah, I remember," Stella said. "What does that have to do with you and Danny now, though?"_

"_He pulled away from me after that," Lindsay said. "I couldn't get through to him, no matter what I did…it was like he didn't want me around when he was grieving, like he didn't think I'd understand or something, which is crazy, right? It went on like that for a few months before he finally seemed to just snap out of it, I guess…but by then, the damage was done."_

"_What sort of damage?" Stella asked._

"_Near the end of that time, I started to get this feeling…you know how we interview wives and they tell us that they just sort of knew their husbands were having an affair?" Lindsay asked. "We always say that there must have been clues, things to lead them to that, but I just knew…I was talking to him on the phone one morning and I knew. There wasn't anything drastically different, nothing that should have tipped me off, but I just knew."_

"_Danny cheated on you?" Stella asked. "Lindsay, why didn't you come to me then?"_

"_I wasn't sure," Lindsay said. "And I thought if I didn't have any evidence, that maybe I was just being paranoid. I didn't want it to be true, you know? And I thought about how Mac's always telling me that I put too much stock in my intuition before I have the evidence to back it up, so I kept telling myself that it was just a feeling, nothing more. As long as there wasn't any evidence, I could just pass it off as paranoia or something…and then it wasn't long after that that I got pregnant, and that only made the charade more important."_

"_Charade?" Stella asked._

"_I've been trying so hard with Danny these last few months, acting like things were okay," Lindsay said. "I wanted us to be a family for the baby. I thought maybe if I pretended things were fine long enough, it would start to be true."_

"_Then why do you keep refusing to accept his marriage proposals?" Stella asked._

"_That feeling again," Lindsay said. "It's always been in the back of my mind, I guess. I kept thinking that if I just acted happy, if I just tried to go back to the way things were, eventually I'd start to trust him again, eventually we'd be us again, and then I'd feel comfortable enough to accept his proposal. I thought it was working, too…there are days when it feels like we're getting back there. Like last month, when I moved in with him, when we were decorating his extra room for the baby – that was perfect."_

"_So how did you go from perfect to crying on my doorstep that you're going back to Montana?" Stella asked._

"_That stupid feeling wouldn't go away," Lindsay sighed. "It just kept cropping up at all these random moments, and then today, I don't know what happened…I was just sort of sitting there, watching him in the kitchen and I asked. I didn't mean to, it just came out. I asked him if he had slept with Rikki Sandoval."_

"_And he said yes," Stella said sympathetically, taking Lindsay's hand in hers._

"_Not right away," Lindsay said. "He hesitated, which almost makes it worse, because I know he was trying to decide if he was going to lie to me or not. I thought knowing would be better than not knowing, but I don't think anything I've been through has hurt more than when I heard him say that he had slept with her."_

"_Oh, Lindsay," Stella sighed, pulling her friend into a hug, albeit a slightly awkward one because of Lindsay's baby bump._

"_I just took off," Lindsay said. "I grabbed my bag, told him I couldn't be there anymore and I just left…I didn't know where else to go, so I came here."_

"_Well, you came to the right place," Stella said. "You know that you can stay here as long as you need."_

"_It'll just be overnight," Lindsay said. "I've got to talk to Mac in the morning, and then find a flight back to Bozeman."_

"_Lindsay, this isn't something you can run away from," Stella said cautiously._

"_I can't face him, Stella," Lindsay said. "I can't work with him every day and know that he did that to me. I just…I can't do it, Stella."_

"_Look, just think about it first, Lindsay," Stella said. "Don't talk to Mac until you've done that. Give it at least a few days, if not a few weeks. I'm not saying that you don't have every right to be mad as hell at Danny, because you do. That doesn't mean you can run off, though. You've still got a lot here – you've got a good job, you've got your friends, and like it or not, even if he is a jackass, Danny's still that baby's father, Lindsay."_

"_What am I supposed to do, then?" Lindsay asked in frustration._

"_Well, you start maternity leave in two weeks anyway," Stella said. "I'm sure we can work it out so that you don't have to work with Danny until then. And you'll stay with me, so that's another thing you won't have to worry about. You don't have to go back to his place, either…I'll swing by and pick up the rest of your things tomorrow."_

"_I can't, Stella," Lindsay said. "There's no reason for me to stay…I'm just going to go home."_

"_No, you are not," Stella said, a bit more forcefully this time. "Look, I know that you're upset, Lindsay, and I know that you don't think you're strong enough to handle this, but you are."_

"_No, I'm not," Lindsay insisted._

"_Lindsay, whether you are or not isn't even the issue here," Stella said. "You cannot make life-altering decisions like this on the spur of the moment, especially not when there's a baby involved. Right now, you may think you're thinking clearly, but you're running on anger, adrenaline and hormones. You are in no state of mind to be making decisions like this."_

"_So what am I supposed to do?" Lindsay asked, the air of defeat in her voice breaking Stella's heart._

"_Just stay here until the baby is born, alright?" Stella suggested. "Take some time, think things over, get a better picture of how this is all going to work. When the baby is three weeks old, if you still think that going back to Bozeman would be best for both of you, you let me know and I'll drive you to the airport myself. Deal?"_

"_Deal," Lindsay agreed reluctantly, knowing that there was no way her friend was going to relent until she got Lindsay to stay, at least for a little while__…_


	7. All That Matters

**A/N:** First of all, I'm aware that this chapter is a bit shorter than my chapters usually are - I apologize for that, but I couldn't add any of the other parts that I wanted to without throwing the flow of the story off. Still, it is still a fairly good-sized chapter, so I hope you'll enjoy it.

And for the record? I absolutely bawled when I was writing the last bit of this chapter, so I hope you'll let me know what you think - I had this gorgeous, heart-breaking image in my head, but I'm not sure if I conveyed it as well as I could have, so any feedback is appreciated!

* * *

Don sighed as he leaned forward in his chair, his forearms resting heavily on his thighs as he held Stella's engagement ring in his hands. Slowly, he twirled the elegant platinum band between his fingers, his thumbs running over the sweeping circle of small diamonds surrounding the brilliant center stone, trying to focus on the happy memories he associated with the ring instead of the bleakness of the current situation.

"That's quite a ring," Mac commented, sinking into the chair next to Don and pulling him out of his thoughts.

"She's quite a woman," Don replied, his eyes not moving from the diamond.

"Touché," Mac conceded, an awkward silence descending upon the two men.

"She wanted to tell you," Flack said quietly. "She wanted to tell everyone, but she especially wanted you to know. This isn't…this isn't how she would have wanted you to find out, Mac, I'm sorry."

"Is she happy?" Mac asked.

"What do you mean?" Don asked in confusion.

"It's a simple enough question," Mac said. "I'm afraid I haven't spent a lot of time with Stella lately, so I can't judge for myself. Is she happy, Don? Do you make her happy?"

"I don't know," Don sighed. "It's been…well, I guess you could say it's been a bit of a rough road for us. But yeah, for the most part, I think she's happy. I know you might not think much of the way we went about this, but it doesn't change the fact that I love her, Mac, more than anything."

"I don't know much about how exactly it is that you two 'went about this', Don, but if she's happy, then I guess that's all there is to say," Mac said, his eyes flitting back to Stella's ring. "You must have been quite certain that she'd say 'yes'."

"Excuse me?" Don asked, again confused by Mac's question.

"I'd say that ring cost you four, maybe five months' salary," Mac said. "I remember being terrified to spend even one months' salary when I bought Claire's engagement ring."

"Why?" Don asked. "Wasn't she worth it?"

"Of course she was," Mac said. "That and a lot more, actually. Problem is, it's hard to return an engagement ring…and even though we'd been together almost two years, I wasn't entirely confident that she was going to say 'yes'. It seems you didn't have that worry with Stella."

Don shook his head and laughed slightly. "It was a little late for her to back out by the time I bought this baby," he said.

This time, it was Mac's turn to shoot a confused look at the other man. "How so?" he asked.

"Gave this to her on Christmas Eve," Don said. "We'd already been married a little over three months…"

"_Don, it's freezing out here!" Stella exclaimed, pulling her coat a bit tighter as Don helped her out of the cab. "What are we doing here, anyway? I thought you said you had a Christmas present for me."_

"_I do," Don said, grabbing her hand and leading her through the streets toward their destination._

"_And I have to freeze to get this present?" Stella asked playfully._

"_It's character building, Stel," Don laughed as Stella shivered again. "Geez woman, you'd think you grew up in the desert instead of Manhattan."_

"_Very funny," Stella said, pausing as she looked around at where they were. "Don, what are we doing at the Brooklyn Bridge?"_

"_So impatient," Don scolded playfully. "Haven't you heard that good things come to those who wait?"_

"_It's hard to wait when it's thirty degrees and snowing," Stella pointed out as they made their way to the center of the bridge._

"_Come here," Don instructed, holding open his arms and motioning for Stella to step into them. Wrapping his arms around her, he held her tightly as he turned them to face the Manhattan skyline. "So, I have a confession to make," he whispered in her ear._

"_What's that?" Stella asked._

"_When I was a kid, I used to carve my name into the bricks on the side of the school," Don said. "I used to put my initials, that cheesy little heart and then the initials of whichever little girl I thought I loved that week."_

"_You brought me here to tell me about your childhood girlfriends?" Stella asked suspiciously._

"_Nah," Don chuckled slightly. "But I just wanted you to know, I never really grew up – I'm still writing on the sides of buildings."_

_Pausing, Don watched as Stella's gaze drifted across the skyline, gasping as she finally settled upon the display he'd spent so long arranging. It hadn't been easy convincing the managers of three separate but neighboring skyscrapers to cooperate, but a few flashes of his badge had generally done the trick. He knew the effort was worth it as he watched the tears in Stella's eyes as the buildings glowed with 'D', a heart and 'S'._

"_I think I took it up a notch from the playground, though," Don whispered. "Don't you agree?"_

"_It's perfect," Stella sighed happily, leaning back against Don's chest to take in the view. "But Don, don't think I don't recognize that you stole this idea from a dead guy."_

"_Shh," Don scolded gently. "You're spoiling the moment. Besides, I bought a much nicer ring than dead guy did."_

"_You what?" Stella asked in confusion. "You bought a ring?"_

_Don smiled slightly, twirling Stella around so that she was facing him as he dropped to one knee and pulled out the iconic light blue Tiffany's box he'd been carrying all day._

"_Oh, Don," Stella sighed. "What is all of this?"_

"_You don't recognize a marriage proposal?" Don asked._

"_Don, we're already married," Stella pointed out, holding up her left hand to show him her simple platinum band that matched the one on his left hand._

"_Will you just let me do this?" Don asked in frustration. "Otherwise my knee's going to freeze down here in the snow."_

"_Fine, fine, go ahead," Stella conceded. "Propose."_

"_Okay, here's the deal," Don said, taking Stella's hand in his. "We could argue the point all night, but the fact of the matter is, we rushed into this marriage thing. We closed our eyes and jumped without looking, and for a while it looked like we were going to crash and burn. We've been through hell and back, Stella, and I know it hasn't been easy for either of us…but we're still here, and that's got to mean something, right? I know the first time around, I didn't exactly have the smoothest proposal – hell, I'm still surprised you actually yes when I asked the way I did."_

"_I thought it was perfect for us," Stella interrupted._

"_It was appropriate, maybe, but that doesn't make it perfect," Don said. "And I want us to have the chance to do this right, just you and I, nothing else getting in the way. There are a million reasons that we shouldn't have gotten married, and probably a million more why we shouldn't have stayed married. I don't know when exactly it happened, though, but despite everything that says we shouldn't be together, I am head over heels in love with you, Stella. And yeah, I know this isn't the most romantic speech in the history of romance, but I'm tryin' here…I guess what I'm tryin' to say is that I love you, so would you please be my wife? Again?"_

_Stella could hardly hold back the tears that were welling up in her eyes as she looked down at Don and nodded. "Yes," she said, laughing happily as a grin came over his face. "Of course I will, Don."_

"_Well, that's a relief," Don said, slowly opening the ring box. "Because this baby's not exactly returnable, you know."_

_Stella's eyes grew wipe as Don carefully slipped the elegant Tiffany engagement ring onto her finger, a brilliant round center stone surrounded by a sweeping circle of smaller diamonds, all centered on a band of platinum encrusted with even more small diamonds._

_Easing himself up off his knee, Don gently brushed a strand of hair out of his wife's eyes, tucking it behind her ear as he leaned in and placed a soft kiss on her lips. "I love you, Mrs. Flack," he whispered, using the name they saved for only the most private of situations, smiling as Stella reached up, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him back down to her for another kiss, losing themselves completely in the moment._

* * *

Julia Harper shook her head as the team of detectives descended upon her the moment she walked into the waiting room. Raising her hand to silence their flurry of questions, she looked around, not seeing the one person she needed to talk to.

"I'm sorry, I can't tell you much right now," she said apologetically. "I need to speak with Detective Flack. Where is he?"

Glancing around in confusion, the team realized for the first time that Don had somehow slipped away while they'd been waiting.

"Sam, where'd he go?" Lindsay asked anxiously.

"What am I, my brother's keeper?" Samantha asked. "How should I know where he is?"

"Can't you just tell us if Stella's alright?" Danny asked impatiently.

"I can tell you that she made it through surgery," Julia said. "Beyond that, I really need to speak with her husband first."

"Where would he go?" Mac asked, looking around in frustration. "I was just talking to him a few minutes ago."

Samantha pursed her lips in concentration, running through her last conversations with her brother in her head. Finally, she sighed and smacked palm into her forehead lightly. "Of course," she said in exasperation. "I'll be back in a bit."

"Is it just me or does that girl confuse anybody else?" Angell asked.

"Definitely not just you," Lindsay said, shaking her head as they all watched Samantha hurry away from the group. "Where the hell is she going?"

* * *

Samantha sighed as she slipped silently into the small hospital chapel. She honestly couldn't put her finger on how she'd known Don would be here. Although their parents had raised them Catholic, none of the Flack children were particularly religious as adults. Samantha couldn't even remember the last time she'd been to church, and the last time she'd prayed, she'd been sitting in a jail cell and it had ended up being more ranting than actual prayer.

Now, however, Samantha watched quietly as Don knelt in the front pew, his hands clasped in front of him and his head bowed so that it rested on his forearms. Unsure what to do, she simply stood there, glancing nervously back and forth between her brother and the cross hanging above the altar in front of them.

Only a few moments later, Samantha watched as Don's shoulders began to shake, his head dropping even lower as she saw him give in to his fears and begin to sob. If she had been surprised to find her brother praying, Samantha was shocked by this turn of events. She couldn't once remember seeing Don cry, not really. Sure, she'd seen him shed a tear or two from time to time…when their father had given away the family dog, when his high school sweetheart had dumped him three weeks before graduation, when their grandmother had passed away six years ago. She was even fairly certain there'd been a tear in his eye when she'd hugged him after her release from prison. In all her twenty-seven years, though, Samantha Flack could not recall a single time she'd ever seen Don actually straight-up crying.

Moving down the aisle and slipping into the pew next to her brother, Samantha allowed herself a quick moment of apprehension before putting aside her discomfort and kneeling next to her brother, her left arm slipping around his shoulders while her right hand covered his clasped hands. As Don looked over at her, his bloodshot eyes registering his surprise at her presence in the chapel, Samantha simply nodded, an unspoken message passing between the siblings as they both bowed their heads once again.


	8. Monitors

**A/N:** As always, thank you so much for the reviews - I love hearing from all of my readers! I don't have a whole lot to say about this chapter, as I think it pretty much speaks for itself. So, enjoy!

* * *

"You ready?" Samantha asked, her finger resting on the elevator button that would take her brother back to the waiting room, back to whatever news the surgeon had come to tell him about Stella.

"Not really," Don sighed. "But I gotta do it, right? Whatever happened, I gotta hear it."

"Okay then," Samantha nodded, hitting the fifth floor button and leaning against the back wall with Don.

"She'll be alright," Don said, not really speaking to Samantha but rather to the universe in general. "She's going to be fine."

Samantha simply nodded and squeezed Don's forearm as the elevator doors opened and they slowly stepped out into the waiting room.

Across the room, Danny and Lindsay were sitting together, her head resting on his shoulder as he held her closely. Mac stood nearby, talking quietly with Angell.

Hawkes stood just outside the waiting room, leaning wearily on the edge of the counter at the nurses' station while he talked with Julia Harper. Glancing up and seeing Samantha and Don walking back into the waiting room, he straightened up and motioned for Julia to follow him.

"Detective Flack," Julia said as they walked up next to Don and Samantha.

"Yes," Don said, turning to face the surgeon as the rest of the team quickly made their way over to join them.

"My name is Julia Harper," Julia said, extending her hand toward Don. "I'm heading up the surgical team that's been treated your wife."

"How is she?" Don asked anxiously. "Where is she? Can I see her?"

"Detective Flack, your wife's injuries were extensive," Julia said cautiously. "We were able to remove both of the bullets and we've managed to stabilize her for now, but I'm not going to sugarcoat this for you – her condition is still extremely critical. The next twenty-four hours are going to be crucial for her. If her body can make it through them without further complications, she'll have a much greater chance at a full recovery. We'll do everything we can to make sure that happens, but there's only so much we can do."

"What does that mean?" Don asked. "You can't do anything for her?"

"Right now, we can treat her as complications arise, but there isn't much we can do to prevent them," Julia said.

"Can I see her?" Don asked again. "Is she awake?"

"At the moment, we've got her sedated," Julia said. "We're probably going to keep her that way at least for the next few hours. We need to allow her body a chance to begin healing itself. Even after we remove the sedation, I wouldn't expect her to wake up right away. She's been through a traumatic experience, and it's completely normal for the body to shut down temporarily to give itself time to recover. And yes, I can have a nurse take you back to sit with her, if you'd like."

"What about the rest of us?" Lindsay asked.

"While she's in recovery, I'm afraid it's immediate family only," Julia said. "In a few hours, we'll move her down to ICU, at which point the rest of you can see her one at a time."

* * *

Don hovered nervously in the doorway of Stella's recovery room, watching as her chest rose and fell in perfect rhythm with the machines surrounding her bed. Making his way to her side, he slipped his hand under hers as he sank into the chair near the bed.

"Hey Stella," he said quietly, reaching up to brush a stray curl off her face. "Not really sure that you can hear me, but the nurse said you might be able to, so I guess it beats sitting here in silence, right? And hey, now you can't argue back, so that's good for me."

Don paused as he shook his head at his own words.

"Okay, so that was probably not the best thing to say," he admitted. "Honestly, Stell, I'd let you call me whatever names you wanted if it meant that I was hearin' your voice right now. I know I'm supposed to be strong for you, and I'm tryin' here, I really am, but I need you, Stella…I won't be okay without you here, so don't you even think about leaving me behind, not now. We've got too many memories left to make, you hear me? We don't have enough memories, Stella."

Don sighed as he slowly lifted her hand and pressed it to his lips.

"You take your time, Stella," Don said. "I'll be here when you're ready to wake up. Just…don't take too much time, okay?"

* * *

"Dr. Harper, is there any way I could get a look at the forensic evidence before it's sent out?" Mac asked.

"I'm sorry, Detective Taylor, the evidence was already picked up by one of the officers working the case," Julia said.

"Do you know where he took it?" Mac asked. "Which lab it was going to?"

"I can check my records," Julia said, motioning for Mac to follow her as she made her way to the nurses' station. "I keep copies of everything I sign – you know, just in case something ever comes up. It probably hasn't been filed yet, just give me a second."

Julia paused as she began flipping through a stack of papers behind the counter, eventually pulling out a single sheet of paper. "Here it is," she said. "Let's see…according to the information I was given, the evidence was headed for the New Jersey Crime Lab."

"New Jersey?" Mac asked in surprise.

"Yes," Julia confirmed. "It also lists an Inspector Shelby as the receiving investigator over on their side. Does that answer your question?"

"It does," Mac nodded. "Unfortunately, it also raises quite a few other ones."

* * *

"Alright, I got a question," Danny said, sitting up in his seat as he, Lindsay, Hawkes, Angell and Samantha all sat around the waiting room.

"What?" Lindsay asked.

"Well, this may seem like a stupid thing to ask, 'cause obviously he loves her," Danny said. "But why the hell did Flack marry Stella if they weren't going to tell anyone? What's the point of that?"

"Don said he was worried it would affect their work," Samantha offered. "You know, that people would talk or something like that."

"Yeah, maybe if they were just sleeping together," Angell said. "But they wouldn't be the first married couple on the force, that's for sure, and technically, they don't even work in the same department, so no one could stop them from working together. If it was just a casual thing, then yeah, I could see them worrying about the gossips, but a marriage is a whole different ball game."

"It doesn't make any sense," Hawkes said.

"They were worried," Lindsay said quietly.

"Worried about what?" Danny asked.

"They didn't want everyone to be awkward around them if it didn't last," Lindsay admitted.

"Why would they get married if they weren't sure it was going to last?" Angell asked in confusion.

"I don't know," Lindsay said. "I honestly don't know why they got married."

"They didn't tell you?" Danny asked.

"Look, just because I knew that Stella was seeing Don doesn't mean she told me much about their relationship," Lindsay said. "She didn't like to talk about it, so I didn't ask."

"And you never thought to ask why when she told you they were engaged?" Danny asked.

"If she had told me they were engaged, I would have asked why," Lindsay said. "But she never told me, Danny. I wasn't at the wedding. Hell, I only found out that they were married because I forgot to turn off Allie's baby monitor…"

"_Stella, hi," Lindsay said in surprise, walking down the hall toward her apartment to find Stella leaning against the wall next to her door. "Have you been here long? I just dropped Allie off at Danny's…did I forget that I was supposed to meet you somewhere?"_

"_No, you didn't forget," Stella said, her voice conveying a resignation and sadness that almost frightened Lindsay. "I just needed a place to go for a while, so I thought maybe I'd stop by…"_

"_Hey, you know you're always welcome here," Lindsay said, quickly unlocking her front door and ushering Stella into the apartment. "You'll have to excuse the mess…having an eight-month old and a full-time job doesn't exactly leave me much time for housekeeping."_

"_It's fine," Stella said. "Lindsay, do you think I could stay here for a few days?"_

"_Of course you can," Lindsay quickly agreed. "Is there something going on with your place?"_

"_I, um…well, I gave up my lease about two months ago," Stella admitted._

"_Well, where have you been living?" Lindsay asked in confusion._

"_It doesn't matter," Stella said. "I can't go back there…I can't face him…"_

"_Him?" Lindsay repeated questioningly. "Stella, have you been living with someone? When did this happen? The last time we talked, you still had that weird non-relationship with Flack going on."_

"_Yeah," Stella sighed sadly._

"_Oh my God, you've been living with Don," Lindsay said. "Stella?"_

"_I can't, Lindsay," Stella said, her voice practically begging Lindsay to stop. "I just…I can't talk about it, not now, Lindsay. It's too hard…I'm not ready."_

"_Okay," Lindsay sighed. "Look, why don't you go take a shower, freshen up a bit? I'll go ahead and put some fresh sheets in the guest room, get things ready for you."_

"_Thank you," Stella said gratefully._

"_Hey, what are friends for?" Lindsay said, smiling sadly as she hugged Stella._

* * *

"_I'm coming, I'm coming," Lindsay muttered, hurrying out of the kitchen and to the front door. Pulling it open, she wasn't sure whether to be relieved or angry when she saw who was on the other side. "What do you want, Don?"_

"_Is she here?" Flack asked anxiously._

"_Who?" Lindsay asked, crossing her arms over her chest as she stared hard at the detective, silently taking in his haggard appearance, noting that he looked nearly as worn out as Stella had when she'd shown up on Lindsay's doorstep._

"_Stella," Don said. "I can't think of anywhere else that she'd be that I haven't already looked, Lindsay. Please, is she here? I need to see her, I need to find her, Lindsay."_

"_Maybe she doesn't want to be found, Don," Lindsay said. "I don't know what happened between the two of you, but I've never seen her like this, not after Frankie, not after her apartment burned, never. What did you do to her, Don?"_

"_I didn't…" Don stammered._

"_It had to have had something to do with you," Lindsay interrupted. "I can't just let you in so you can hurt her more."_

"_Lindsay, please," Don pleaded._

"_No, Don, you have to give her time," Lindsay insisted. "I don't…"_

"_It's okay, Lindsay," Stella said softly, standing at the end of the hallway. "He didn't do anything…I did. It's my fault."_

"_Stella," Don sighed, quickly brushing past Lindsay and moving to Stella's side. "Stella, we've been through this. It wasn't your fault, baby…there was nothing you could have done."_

_Glancing back and forth between the two, Lindsay quickly excused herself into her bedroom to give them some privacy. As she sat on the edge of the bed, though, she couldn't help but wonder what it was that had left her two friends so completely shattered._

_The sudden noise from the bedside table nearly caused Lindsay to jump out of her skin. Looking around, it took her a moment to realize that she must have left Allie's baby monitor on after her nap that afternoon. Lindsay picked up the receiver off the table and slowly turned the volume up. She was only able to make out bits and pieces of the conversation, as it seemed Don and Stella were not standing still during their argument._

"…_face it, Don, it was a mistake to start with…" Stella's voice came through the receiver, the raw emotion audible even with the terrible reception Lindsay was getting._

"…_but how can you just walk away…" Don pleaded a few moments later._

_Lindsay sank back down on the bed, cradling the receiver in her hands and wondering what the hell was going on between her friends. If the events of the evening thus far hadn't been enough to confuse her, what she heard next would literally have floored her had she not already been sitting down._

"…_no reason for us to stay married…" Stella said, her voice shaking as Lindsay heard her struggling to hold back the tears._

"_Married," Lindsay repeated, quickly shutting off the receiver as she let the shock sink in. "Married? Oh my God."_

"So did you ask them after you heard that?" Angell asked.

"No," Lindsay said. "Look, I don't know what happened, but they were in a bad place, Jess. I mean, really bad…neither of them ever really wants to talk about it, though, and I didn't really think it was my place to push for information."

"And you didn't think it was something the rest of us should know?" Danny asked.

"I wasn't even supposed to know," Lindsay said. "They were barely hanging on their relationship, Danny. If I'd been betting on them, I'd have put good money on the marriage being over within a few weeks of that night. The last thing they needed was everyone judging a quickie marriage that fell apart almost as fast as it came about. I hardly knew anything about their relationship…how was I supposed to know that they'd come through it as strong as they have?"

"So they are happy?" Samantha asked. "I mean, they're not still in that bad place you talked about?"

"No, they're definitely not," Lindsay said. "They've got a really solid marriage…at least, that's how it looks to me. You guys should see them together, it's really something else. The way he looks at her, the way she smiles when he walks in a room…yeah, they've still got their problems, but you can see that they love each other just by looking at them."


	9. Risk and Reward

**A/N:** I'm pretty excited about this chapter, to be honest - we're taking a little break from the heavy hospital scenes, but don't worry, we'll be back to Stella and Don in the next chapter, and I promise, that's going to be a big one! In the meantime, this chapter goes into more detail about what exactly happened to get Samantha out of prison. I hope you like it!

* * *

"I'll never get over how natural that looks," Jess said as she slipped into the seat next to Lindsay. "Never thought I'd see the day, I'll tell you that."

Following her gaze, Lindsay smiled softly as she saw Danny stepping off the elevator, Allie sitting comfortably on his right hip, a diaper bag slung casually over his opposite shoulder.

"He is good with her," Lindsay agreed.

"I wonder what he's talkin' to her about," Jess said, watching with interest as Danny leaned his head in toward Allie, as though whispering some sort of secret only she was privileged enough to hear.

"You don't want to know," Lindsay said, laughing slightly to herself.

"Why?" Jess asked skeptically.

"Last week, he spent three hours telling her about the rules of baseball," Lindsay said. "The week before that, I came home to find him explaining the structure of DNA…complete with a little baby food diagram on her high chair tray."

"Poor kid," Jess laughed. "Doesn't have the vocabulary to tell him to shut up yet."

"Even if she did, I'm not sure she would," Lindsay said. "Danny could pull open the dictionary and read it page by page to her, and Allie would love it. She's a daddy's girl, through and through, and she adores the sound of his voice."

"Really?" Jess asked in surprise.

"It's the only thing that'll calm her down sometimes," Lindsay said, pausing for a moment as she looked to make sure Danny was still out of earshot. "You can't tell him what I'm going to tell you, okay?"

"Cross my heart," Jess promised.

"When she gets really fussy, and I just can't make her stop crying, I have this little trick that I discovered," Lindsay said. "I saved this really long message that Danny left on my voicemail a few months ago – he doesn't say anything important, but I put it on speaker and play it for her. I'm telling you, every time I do that, without fail, she's smiling by the end of the second time through."

"And here I thought I was a daddy's girl," Jess laughed.

"I know, right?" Lindsay agreed. "Even I wasn't that bad. But, it works both ways, you know – she's got him wrapped around her little finger. You should see the way he lights up when she smiles."

"Anything like the way he lights up when you smile?" Jess asked knowingly.

"What?" Lindsay asked in confusion. "What are you talking about? He doesn't…what?"

"I may be a little out of line here, but I'm gonna say it anyhow," Jess said. "You may know more about most of what goes on in other people's lives than the rest of us, but when it comes to your own life, you're just as blind as the guys sometimes, Monroe. He does stupid stuff, yeah…he's a guy, they all do. And yeah, he's an idiot, I get that too. But that idiot is still head over heels in love with you…everyone sees it."

"Everyone?" Lindsay asked.

"You gotta know by now that New York cops gossip worse than a bunch of old ladies at a church potluck," Jess said.

"I guess," Lindsay sighed. "Everyone thinks that?"

"Everyone _knows_ that," Jess corrected. "Only thing that's up in the air is you, Monroe. All you gotta do is say the word and he'd come running."

As Danny approached the two women, Jess gave Lindsay one last knowing look before standing and heading in the direction of the coffee cart, leaving Lindsay with her mind racing as she lifted her daughter out of Danny's arms.

* * *

The young security guard sighed as he took another sip of his coffee, barely noticing as the door to the doors to the New Jersey Crime Lab swung open. Glancing up at the clock, he saw that it was nearly seven-thirty in the morning and he briefly wondered where the hell the second shift guard was.

It was only when he heard the door to the interior of the lab slam shut that he turned to notice the man walking down the hall.

"Sir!" he called out. "Sir, you can't go in there!"

Hurrying down the hall, he found that despite the fact that the man was walking, he'd have to run to have any chance of catching him.

"Sir!" he called again, hoping to catch his attention. "Sir, you really can't be back here…you have to at least sign in first!"

"It's alright, Steve," a female voice said from behind him, causing both men to stop in their tracks and turn around. "He's fine."

"Are you sure, ma'am?" the guard asked. "He really ought to at least sign in, you know."

"Just add Detective Taylor to the log book," Quinn Shelby instructed. "I'll sign it later."

"Yes, ma'am," the security guard nodded, quickly hurrying back down the hall to his desk.

"You know, you really should have signed in, Mac," Quinn said. "I'd say it's good to see you, but I don't imagine these are the right circumstances for that."

"No, they're not," Mac agreed.

"I'd also say I'm surprised to see you here, but then again, I suppose I shouldn't be," Quinn said. "How is Detective Bonasera?"

"She's out of surgery," Mac said. "Beyond that, her prognosis is still undetermined."

"Well, I suppose it could be worse," Quinn said. "But I'm going to take a wild guess and say you didn't come here to give me an update on her condition, did you?"

"No, I didn't," Mac agreed. "I understand that the New Jersey Crime Lab is handling the evidence from the shooting."

"Yes, we are," Quinn said. "I'm afraid at this point we don't have much to update you with, though. There are a few leads that look promising, but you know I can't discuss an active case in detail with you."

"Although I would like to know your progress, that's not why I'm here, Quinn," Mac said.

"Oh?" Quinn said in confusion.

"You had no business accepting this case and you know it," Mac said.

"No, I'm afraid I don't know it," Quinn responded, a small hint of annoyance in her voice. "Why exactly did I have no business accepting this case?"

"For one thing, the shooting of three NYPD officers ought to be handled by NYPD investigators," Mac said.

"Mac, NYPD is still leading this case," Quinn said. "All we're doing is providing the equipment and the forensic experts."

"But you can't keep it at the same priority that we could in New York," Mac argued. "Especially not with the condition of your lab."

"What exactly is that supposed to mean?" Quinn asked defensively.

"I don't have time for this, Quinn," Mac sighed. "It's one of the worst kept secrets in the forensic world that your lab is operating with a backlog of at least a dozen cases each week. What were you thinking, accepting a high profile case from outside your jurisdiction when you can't even handle the cases within your own jurisdiction?"

"That backlog has nothing to do with the quality of my investigators," Quinn said. "It has nothing to do with our equipment and it has nothing to do with whether or not we can handle our caseload. If I thought it would be an issue, I never would have offered New Jersey's assistance in this case."

"You _offered_?" Mac asked in surprise. "You mean, you called Sinclair, he didn't call you?"

"Technically, I called the mayor's office," Quinn said. "The mayor called Sinclair."

"Why would you do that, Quinn?" Mac asked.

"Can you honestly tell me that the investigators you could have assigned to the case are anywhere near the quality that my top team here is?" Quinn asked.

"No," Mac admitted. "You've got your top team on this?"

"Of course I do," Quinn said. "As though I could keep them off…as soon as they heard what happened, they wanted to be involved. We're all eager to catch the bastard who did this, Mac."

"Why, Quinn?" Mac asked again. "It just doesn't make sense – there has to be something specific about this case, because I know you wouldn't do this for just any case. And don't give me some crap about doing it to help me, because I don't buy it."

"No, I didn't do it for you," Quinn said. "I'm doing it for Stella…we all are, Mac."

"You don't even like Stella," Mac pointed out.

"Just because I wouldn't necessarily go have a beer with her after work does not mean that I don't have the utmost respect for her," Quinn said. "We may disagree on a lot of things, but she's a damn fine investigator and a good person. She's done a lot to make herself very popular with my team, too."

"What are you talking about?" Mac asked in confusion.

"Stella's been…well, I guess you could say she's been helping us out with a project for the last few months," Quinn said. "She did us a favor that probably saved the lab."

"What sort of favor?" Mac asked.

"I wish I could tell you," Quinn sighed. "Really, I do, but I can't. We all signed confidentiality agreements after the deal was reached…"

_Stella Bonasera paused outside the district attorney's office, allowing herself one final moment of uncertainty before she put everything she'd worked for on the line. She knew she could lose her career if things didn't go according to plan. She knew she could potentially be destroying her friendship with Mac, not to mention the damage she could do to her professional reputation, if word got out that she threatened another lab._

_Somehow, though, those worries paled in comparison to her concern about what would happen to her relationship with Don Flack if she were successful today. For the past six months, he'd been turning to her to ease the pain associated with his sister's imprisonment. When she was released, would he still need her? As twisted as it sounded even to her, Stella knew that the six months they'd spent together had been some of the happiest months of her life. Somewhere along the way, despite her best efforts not to, she knew that she had fallen in love with Don. But even though she was almost certain that what she was about to do would put an end to that relationship, she also knew that there was no way she could live with letting an innocent woman go to prison._

_Taking one final breath to steady her nerves, Stella twisted the doorknob, pushing the door open and stepping into the immaculate office of the Hudson County District Attorney._

"_Detective Bonasera," Janine Bartlett said coolly, standing up from her seat at the small conference table in the corner of the room._

"_District Attorney Bartlett," Stella said, nodding as she shook the woman's hand before turning to the woman next to her. "Inspector Shelby, thank you for coming."_

"_You said this was about the Samantha Flack case?" Quinn asked._

"_Yes," Stella said. "I looked over the evidence and I discovered something that I thought both of you should see."_

"_That's impossible," Quinn said. "I restricted access to that evidence specifically to prevent Don Flack's friends from meddling with this case. Who let you see that evidence?"_

"_Don't worry, no one violated protocol," Stella assured her. "I'm not here as a friend of Don Flack's, I'm not even here as a NYPD crime scene investigator. I'm here as an independent forensic expert retained by the defense to review the evidence offered by the prosecution."_

"_You were hired by the defense?" Quinn asked in surprise. "Doesn't that violate all sorts of NYPD regulations? I know in Jersey we have rules against active duty detectives being hired as experts for either side – don't they have the same rules in New York?"_

"_Probably," Stella acknowledged. "To be honest, I didn't really check."_

"_Well, I'm sure Chief Sinclair will be interested to hear all of this," Janine said._

"_He might be," Stella agreed. "But then I'd have to tell him what I discovered when I examined the evidence, and believe me, you don't want anyone else to hear what I'm going to tell you."_

"_Are you threatening me?" Janine asked, anger in her voice. "I will not stand for this, Detective Bonasera."_

"_Let me get right to the point, then," Stella said. "Someone in the New Jersey Crime Lab not only covered up evidence that would have implicated another suspect in this case, but also fabricated evidence against Samantha Flack."_

"_You'd better have proof to back that allegation up," Janine said, the shock evident on her face._

"_I do," Stella said, pulling a large case file from her bag and placing it on the table._

_

* * *

For the next hour, Stella went through every detail of the evidence, pointing out exactly how one lab tech had managed to hide the existence of a fingerprint belonging to the victim's ex-wife and how that same lab tech had planted one of Samantha's fingerprints on the murder weapon._

"_I just don't get why Josh would do this," Quinn said as Stella finished presenting her evidence._

"_I wondered about that too," Stella said. "I did a little background check, though. Have you ever met Mr. Reynolds' fiancée?"_

"_I didn't even know he was engaged," Quinn said._

"_To the victim's ex-wife's sister," Stella said._

"_So he did this to clear his fiancée's sister?" Janine asked._

"_It appears that way, yes," Stella said._

"_Even with the planted fingerprint, that doesn't change all the other evidence against Ms. Flack," Quinn said. "Even without the fingerprint, I still think Janine can get a conviction."_

"_No, I can't," Janine said, running a hand through her hair in frustration. "The majority of the evidence that I was going to present was collected using a warrant that never would have been issued without the fingerprint. Lose the fingerprint and the defense has an open door to contest the rest of the evidence."_

"_This…this could be a disaster," Quinn said, realization hitting her sharply. "We could lose our accreditation, be shut down…at the very least, we'll be put on probation."_

"_If this information becomes public," Stella said._

"_What are you suggesting?" Quinn asked. "How could it not become public?"_

"_Look, I'm not afraid to play politics as long as no one gets hurt," Stella said. "And I have no desire to bring down an entire lab just to make an example out of one crooked lab tech. I really think this can be handled quietly, and that that's actually the more effective way to do it."_

"_How so?" Janine asked skeptically._

"_If it becomes public knowledge that someone in the New Jersey Crime Lab tampered with evidence, it'll open a flood gate that you can't even imagine, Ms. Bartlett," Stella said. "Every defense attorney who worked a case that Josh Reynolds even glanced at will be clamoring for a retrial. That's not to mention the fact that – and I'm not saying that she had anything to do with this – but Inspector Shelby signed off on the evidence reports for this case. If even one judge is sympathetic to the defense, you could easily be looking at overturned convictions in hundreds of cases."_

"_Oh my God," Janine sighed. "She's right, Quinn…this could be a disaster."_

"_Here's the thing," Stella said. "Right now, the three of us – and obviously Josh Reynolds as well – are the only people who know about this. The only way I'm telling anyone is if Samantha Flack's case goes to trial, in which case I would testify on behalf of the defense."_

"_Even though that would cost you your job?" Quinn asked._

"_Some things are more important," Stella said. "Now, obviously Quinn's not going to be telling anyone. And the only way you'd be telling anyone, Ms. Bartlett, is if you prosecuted Josh Reynolds, which I don't think you're going to do."_

"_What exactly do you propose that we do?" Janine asked._

"_Drop the charges against Samantha Flack," Stella said. "You've got no case and if you go to trial, you'd be opening a box of troubles that you just don't need with your reelection next year."_

"_And what about the lab?" Quinn asked._

"_I know you can easily make it so that Josh Reynolds never works in forensics again," Stella said. "When you fire him, let him know that if he ever talks about what happened, he will be prosecuted for it. He'd be an idiot to open his mouth. Now, it does look like this was just a one time thing, but to be safe, I really think you need to get your most trusted investigators, let them know what's going on and review every case he worked on."_

"_That's almost two years' worth of cases," Quinn said. "Do you have any idea how long that would take? How much that would backlog the lab?"_

"_Would it be worse that losing your accreditation if it turns out this wasn't the first time he'd done this?" Stella asked. "Look, I know it's a bad situation, Quinn. I don't envy the position this puts you in, and I am sorry for that. If it helps at all, I'd be happy to come over and assist in the review whenever I can."_

"_I don't like this," Janine said. "It won't look good for my office to suddenly drop all charges against Samantha Flack – especially if I can't offer a decent explanation for the decision. But I suppose in the long run, it is the least damaging option."_

* * *

"_That took guts," Quinn commented as she and Stella walked out of the courthouse that afternoon, having spent most of the morning ironing out the details of their arrangement. "But here's what I don't get – why this case? What's so special about this Flack girl? I mean, I know you work with her brother, but still…"_

"_It was the right thing to do," Stella shrugged._

"_Something tells me there's a little more to it than that," Quinn said._

"_Maybe there is," Stella admitted. "But in the end, she didn't do it, and that's what mattered."_

"_I suppose," Quinn mumbled, pausing on the steps of the courthouse as Stella walked down to the street and hailed a cab to take her back into the city._

"_Hey, Bonasera!" Quinn called out just before Stella climbed into her waiting taxi. Turning around, Stella shot Quinn a questioning look. "Out of curiosity, how much did you charge the defense for your retainer?"_

_Stella smiled and shook her head at Quinn's question. "Let's just say," she said, holding up the cardboard coffee cup in her hand. "It didn't quite cover my latte."_

_Quinn let out a small laugh, shaking her head in disbelief as she watched Stella drive away._


	10. Revelations

**A/N:** Sorry for the slight delay in getting this chapter written. I hope everyone is having a wonderful holiday season so far, no matter what it is that you celebrate this time of year! As an early Christmas present to you all, here's the chapter I think a lot of you have been waiting for - the big reveal of why Don and Stella actually got married! I hope that you all enjoy it - there's lots more good stuff to come!

* * *

"Hey, where'd you disappear to?" Hawkes asked as Mac returned to the waiting room early that afternoon.

"Had a few things to take care of," Mac said.

"Right," Hawkes nodded knowingly. "How was Jersey?"

"How'd you know I was in Jersey?" Mac asked suspiciously.

"Julia told me what you asked her, and what she told you," Hawkes said. "It doesn't take a detective to figure out where you went. Have they got any leads yet?"

"Quinn said they were pursuing a few possible suspects," Mac said. "She promised to call me when they make an arrest. Beyond that, she couldn't tell me much, though. I'm sure you remember how much of a stickler she is for procedure."

"Hard to forget," Hawkes said. "But they seem confident?"

"It's a little hard to tell…Quinn's always confident," Mac said. "Did I miss much here? Any word on Stella?"

"They moved her to an ICU room about two hours ago," Hawkes said. "They reduced her sedation when they moved her, so she could wake up any time now, although I wouldn't expect it right away."

"Why not?" Mac asked.

"Well, I haven't been able to get Julia alone long enough to go over the surgery in detail, but from what she's said in passing, Stella lost a lot of blood, both at the scene and in the OR," Hawkes said. "Even with transfusions, it's going to take a while for her body to make up the lost blood volume – and that's assuming that she doesn't develop any internal bleeding."

"Is that likely?" Mac asked in concern.

"It isn't unheard of," Hawkes said. "I wouldn't say that it's extremely likely, either, but it isn't out of the realm of possibility, and Julia does seem to be concerned."

"Can we see her?" Mac asked.

"One at a time, but yeah, you can. I was in there for a bit earlier; I think Lindsay and Flack are in there now," Hawkes said. "So, I guess it's really one at a time, plus Flack. He refuses to leave her side…I don't think I've ever seen him this torn up about anything."

"His wife is fighting for her life, Hawkes," Mac said sadly. "There's nothing easy about not knowing if the woman you thought you were going to spend the rest of your life with is going to live or die. How else would you expect him to react?"

"I guess you have a point," Hawkes agreed. "It just feels so strange to think of Stella as his wife, you know? It's not like any of us have had a chance to even get used to the idea of them being anything more than friends, and now they're married?"

"It isn't our place to judge them," Mac said. "I'm sure they had a good reason for getting married, and I'm sure Stella had a good reason for not telling us."

"He does seem to love her," Hawkes commented. "I just wish we knew if she felt the same way."

"She does," Mac said.

"I thought you didn't know about them?" Hawkes said in confusion.

"I didn't," Mac said. "But I do know Stella, and I know that whatever her other reasons may have been, she would never have taken that step if she weren't in love with him."

* * *

"Can I ask you a question?" Lindsay asked as she sat opposite Don at Stella's bedside.

"Sure," Don said quietly, not bothering to move his gaze away from Stella's pale face.

"How did you know?" Lindsay asked.

"Know what?" Don asked in confusion.

"That you loved Stella," Lindsay said. "That she was the one, that you could trust her with your heart. How did you know that you guys were both in it for the long haul? That getting married was the right thing to do?"

"That's a lot of questions, Lindsay," Don commented. "You got somethin' on your mind?"

"You never talk about it," Lindsay said. "Neither of you do, really. I guess I just want to know, because everyone out there expects me to understand your relationship just because I'm the only one who knew about it."

"Honestly, I couldn't tell you when I first knew that I loved her," Don said. "It just sort of grew on me, real slow, like the feelings had always been there and now they were just comin' out of hiding or something."

"But how did you know that it was love?" Lindsay asked. "How did you know that you were in love with her? That it wasn't just sex…or loneliness?"

Don sighed, glancing over at Lindsay, knowing that they weren't just talking about him and Stella anymore. "When I'm with her, it's like there was this part of me that was always missing that isn't missin' anymore," Flack said. "Yeah, we fight a lot, and we drive each other insane, but you know that cheesy saying about people who find their other half? It's kinda true, Linds. She makes me feel whole…I guess that's how I know that I love her."

"And that's why you married her?" Lindsay asked curiously. "That's why you proposed?"

"Not exactly," Don sighed, closing his eyes to hold back a few tears as he gently squeezed Stella's limp hand and thought back to the night that their whole lives had been turned upside down…

_Stella silently slipped her key into the front door, turning it slowly as she softly pushed against it, easing her way into the apartment with only the slightest sound. Dropping the key back into her purse, she stepped quietly into the dark apartment, carefully closing the door behind her._

_Although it was pitch black, she easily made her way across the living room to the bedroom door, pausing in the doorway as her eyes adjusted to the small rays of moonlight shining through the bedroom window._

_Stella had never actually used her key before, and she wasn't entirely certain she was a bit nervous about whether or not she should have used it tonight. She had never completely understood why Don had had the key made for her. At the time, he'd claimed it was because she was spending so much time at his place, but Stella didn't buy it. She'd never arrived when he wasn't already present – it was part of their unspoken arrangement that she only came when he called, just as he only came to her apartment when she called him. If it had been anyone else, Stella might have thought that the key was symbolic, but somehow she doubted that Don Flack was the type of man to think that deeply about something._

_As she leaned wearily against the doorframe and watched him sleep, she felt a sad smile playing at her lips. No matter how much she had tried to hid it, despite the fact that she had still seen him nearly every day at work, she had to admit that she had missed him. In the weeks following his sister's release, their relationship seemed to have cooled off considerably. It had been one of the risks that Stella had known she was taking when she helped clear Samantha. She had thought that she'd prepared herself for it, but there was no denying that the past few weeks without Don had been painful for her._

_Rolling over in his bed, Don was jolted out of his fitful sleep by the sight of a shadow hovering in the doorway, seemingly lost in thought. Squinting in the pale moonlight, he sucked in a breath when he recognized the figure, his mind frantically trying to figure out if he was actually awake. Was he really seeing her here, in his bedroom, or was this yet another dream taunting him with the one thing he was certain he could never have?_

"_Stella?" he mumbled groggily, propping himself up on his elbow as he sought to get a better glimpse of his unexpected visitor._

"_Hey," she said nervously, shoving her hands into the pockets of her jeans and staring intently at the carpet in front of her feet._

"_What's wrong?" Don asked, quickly recognizing the change from her usual confident, self-assured manner. "What's going on, Stella?"_

"_I just…I need to talk to you, Don," Stella said. "We, uh, we really need to talk."_

"_It's three in the morning, Stel," Don groaned, reaching out and pulling back the edge of his comforter. "Come to bed and we'll talk when the sun's actually up."_

"_Don," Stella said cautiously, noticing the way he had flopped back against his pillows._

"_I'm sleeping," Don mumbled, tossing a pillow across face._

"_I'm pregnant," Stella said, a bit bluntly but nevertheless effectively getting her point across._

_Don bolted upright in his bed, the pillow falling haphazardly to the floor as he stared in shock at Stella, searching for the laughter in her face, something to tell him that this was some sort of practical joke. Instead, all he found written in her features was the same fear and surprise he felt growing in the pit of his stomach._

"_Okay, so now I'm awake," Don said, motioning for Stella to join him in the bed. "Come on, I guess we should talk or somethin', right? This is…I guess unexpected is an understatement?"_

"_Yeah," Stella nodded, hesitantly moving into the room and taking a seat on the edge of the bed. "I'm sorry, Don. I know the timing is horrible…I know things were just about to go back to the way they were…"_

"_Don't," Don interrupted quickly. "Don't, Stella."_

"_I am sorry," Stella insisted. "Even if you don't believe me…"_

"_Stop," Don said again. "It isn't that I don't believe you, Stella…it's that I don't want you to be sorry. I don't want you to apologize. I know you didn't plan this, I know it's as unexpected for you as it is for me. And yeah, I guess the timing could be better, but honestly? I don't know about you, but I don't want to go back to the way things used to be."_

"_You don't?" Stella asked in confusion._

"_Look, I don't know exactly what you'd call what we've had for the last six months, but whatever the hell it is, I don't want to lose it," Don said. "And maybe a baby isn't exactly the smartest way to hold onto that, but it's not like we've got a whole lotta options at this point, Stella…you are having the baby, right?"_

"_Yes," Stella quickly assured him, taking her own reassurance in the way his features visibly relaxed at her words. "I could never do that, Don, I could never not have the baby. Besides, it's a little late at this point."_

"_What do you mean?" Don asked._

"_I'm fourteen weeks," Stella said._

_Confusion quickly clouded Don's face as he tilted his head to the side, noticing for the first time the way Stella's abdomen was, indeed, slightly rounded._

"_So, what, you were just waiting to tell me?" Don asked. "All these months, you've known and didn't think it was important to tell me?"_

"_Two weeks," Stella clarified. "I've only known for two weeks. I know, it's crazy, I never understood how women could not know that they were pregnant, but I never had any morning sickness. I haven't really gained that much weight yet, which the doctor says is normal…and I had some spotting, which I thought was my period, since I've always been light. I just…there was so much going on, I never put the pieces together."_

"_So how did you find out?" Don asked._

"_Remember the department physicals we all had to have last month?" Stella asked. "It's standard procedure to include a pregnancy test in the blood tests of all female employees. It just took them a while to process the results. When the doctor called me back in to tell me, I asked her where the hidden cameras were. I thought the guys down at the precinct were playing a joke on me or something. I don't think I really believed it until I went to the OB and I saw the ultrasound. I was going to tell you right away, I really was, but you were so busy with Sam getting out, and I thought I'd just wait until the next time we, you know, saw each other…and then that never happened, so here I am."_

"_I guess we're not so great at the communication thing, huh?" Don asked._

"_I guess not," Stella agreed._

"_So, where do we go from here?" Don asked, wrapped his arms around her as she leaned back against his chest._

"_I don't know," Stella admitted. "I really don't know."_

"_Do you…I mean, I know this'll sound crazy…but do you maybe want to get married?" Don blurted out._

"_I…what?" Stella asked, her eyes widening in shock._

"_It's just an idea," Don said nervously. "You know, somethin' to think about."_

_Truth be told, Don was terrified that the only reason Stella was still with him was because she was pregnant. He'd always thought that couples who got married because of a pregnancy were setting themselves up for failure, going about it all wrong – he'd told Danny as much when Lindsay had gotten pregnant. Now that he was faced with the prospect himself, though, he had to admit that, even if it wasn't ideal, he'd do anything he could to keep the woman he'd fallen in love with in his life._

"Don?" Lindsay asked, waving a hand in front of his face, pulling him from his memories. "Where'd you go there?"

"Just thinkin'," Don said. "Rememberin'."

"So, why did you marry Stella?" Lindsay asked.

"Because I love her," Don said. "I married her because I love her."

"Just because you love someone doesn't mean that you can make a marriage work," Lindsay said.

"It doesn't mean you can't, though," Don said. "Just because you've been hurt in the past doesn't mean it's going to happen again, Lindsay. People make mistakes, sure, but they can learn from them, too."

"You really think so?" Lindsay asked.

"Yeah, I do. Look, when I wake up in the morning, she's the first thing I think about," Don said, reaching up to gently run the back of his against Stella's cheek. "When I go to bed at night, I have a hard time sleeping if she's not there with me. When something good happens, the first thing I want to do is tell her, and when something bad happens, all I want is for her to hold me. She's everything to me, Lindsay…when someone means that much to you, you just get to a point where you know that it would hurt more to lose that person without ever trying than it ever would to try and fail. You get to that point where you can't not take the risk. You just have to close your eyes and pray like hell you don't get your ass kicked."

"Was it worth it?" Lindsay asked. "Everything you guys went through, was it worth it to get to where you are now?"

"No," Don said, earning a look of surprise and confusion from Lindsay. "Yeah, I know that's not what you expected to hear…you wanted to hear me say that even though it hurt, that even though it was hard, what's on the other side is worth all the pain, right?"

"Well, yeah," Lindsay admitted.

"Maybe it is for some people," Don said. "But what we went through, it was hell, Lindsay, pure and simple, it was hell, and I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy. Am I happy with where we are now? Yeah, I am. But if someone offered me the chance to change what happened, I wouldn't have to think twice, I'd do it, even knowing that we might not get to where we are now. Because the pain that we both went through – especially what Stella went through – there is nothing that could make that pain worth it."

"Are you ever going to tell me exactly what happened?" Lindsay asked.

"Not today," Don said. "I just…there are some sorts of pain that just need to stay private for a while, Lindsay. But if you're asking whether what happened to us was anything like what happened to you and Danny, the answer is no."

"Okay," Lindsay nodded. "I'd guess I'd better go make sure Allie's alright, but I'll stop in later."

"Give her a kiss for me," Don said.

"I will…and, um, thanks, Don," Lindsay said, squeezing Stella's hand before quietly slipping out of the room.

"I think you were right, Stel," Don said as soon as the door closed behind her. "Monroe's still head over heels for Messer, she's just scared out of her mind about it. Guess I owe you twenty bucks now, huh?"

Don sighed as the only response he received came in the form of the steady beeping from the machines surrounding Stella.

"You know that I love you, right?" Don said continued. "I know I don't say it enough, but I love you, Stella. So, maybe you could just open your eyes for a minute…I know I said take your time, and I'm not goin' anywhere, but you're startin' to scare me a bit, baby."

Getting no response, Don sighed again and let his head drop just a bit, fatigue starting to overtake his body as he continued to hold onto her hand and send up yet another silent prayer. A few moments later, the unexpected sensation of a weak grip squeezing his hand caused Don's head to shoot back up in anticipation, a smile of relief crossing his face as blue eyes finally locked with green.


	11. Waking Up

**A/N:** This chapter should (hopefully) answer some of the questions that were raised in the last chapter. There are no actual flashbacks in this chapter - they just didn't seem to fit properly anywhere. There will be some very important flashbacks coming up soon, though, so don't think they've been left behind completely!

* * *

"Hey there," Don said softly, his voice shaking as he tentatively reached his hand out to touch Stella's face.

"Hi," Stella whispered back, her own voice hoarse from lack of use and the intubation necessary for the surgery.

"How do you feel?" Don asked.

"Like my chest was ripped open by little pieces of lead," Stella said, wincing slightly as she spoke.

"Stupid question, right?" Don said, laughing slightly at Stella's attempt at humor. "I'll call for a nurse, see if we can't get you some extra morphine for the pain now that you're awake."

"Don't," Stella said, shaking her head slightly. "Not yet, Don. Just…can you just sit with me for a while? Just us?"

"Yeah, we can do that," Don nodded, leaning down to kiss her gently on the forehead. "I love you so much, Stella. You know that, right?"

"I know," Stella said. "I love you too, Don."

"And everyone knows now, so you're really stuck with me," Don pointed out.

"Were they angry?" Stella asked in concern.

"I don't think so," Don said. "They were surprised, more than a little confused too…but I don't think anyone was angry. Course, my sister knows but my folks still don't. When Ma finds out, then we might see a little anger."

"Samantha knows?" Stella asked in surprise.

"I was at my parents' place when I got the call," Don said. "She rode back from Queens with me and was still hangin' around when everyone found out."

"How'd she take it?" Stella asked.

"She was surprised, I guess," Don said. "Maybe a little amused at the thought of how Ma was goin' to react. She did want to know how a guy like me managed to get a woman like you to go out with me."

"What did you tell her?" Stella asked.

"That I was just lucky, I guess," Don said. "She's pretty psyched to meet you, I can tell you that. She's always wanted a sister, and me gettin' married is pretty much the closest she's ever gonna get to that."

"What about the team?" Stella asked. "They weren't mad?"

"I think Danny was a little bothered that I didn't tell him," Don admitted. "Hawkes and Jess, they're confused, but they haven't been asking too many questions, which I guess is a good thing. I don't know, maybe they're out there peppering Lindsay with questions, tryin' not to bother us."

"And Mac?" Stella asked anxiously.

"Mac just wanted to know if you were happy," Don said.

"What did you tell him?" Stella asked.

"I told him I thought you were," Don said. "That we'd had a rough road, but that as far as I knew, you were happy now."

"Good," Stella nodded slowly. "Because I am, Don. I am happy…I know we fight a lot, and I'm not always the easiest person to live with…but I love you, and I am happy."

"Me too," Don smiled. "And you're not _that_ difficult to live with, you know."

"I'll be sure and remind you of that the next time you're complaing about my shoes taking up all the space in the closet," Stella laughed.

* * *

"You'd better not be doing what I think you're doing," Julia Harper commented as she walked up behind Hawkes at the nurses' station, startling him as he quickly shut the chart he'd been reading.

"Hi, Jules," he said innocently. "Busy day?"

"Don't try to distract me, Sheldon," Julia said sternly, tapping the cover of the chart. "You were reading Detective Bonasera's chart, weren't you? See this word here? Was there some part of 'confidential' that you didn't understand?"

"I was just glancing at it," Hawkes protested. "No harm done, right?"

Julia sighed as she shook her head. "I know she's a friend of yours, Sheldon, but we have procedures for a reason," Julia said.

"When did you become such a stickler for the rules?" Hawkes asked. "I remember more than a few times when you told me…what were your exact words? Oh yes, 'rules are for old fuddy-duddies with nothing better to do than think of things other people shouldn't do.' Or there was my personal favorite, 'damn it all to hell, Sheldon, we've got to screw the rules to get ahead, not follow them!' What happened to that girl, Jules?"

"Oh my God, why do you have to remember that?" Julia laughed. "Come on, Sheldon, you can't hold me to something I said ten years ago…things change, people grow."

"And somewhere along the line, you joined the old fuddy-duddies," Hawkes said.

"I did not!" Julia protested indignantly. "Take it back!"

"Nope," Hawkes said. "You've crossed over, Jules."

"I am still not letting you read the rest of that chart," Julia said.

"Can I at least ask questions?" Hawkes asked.

"I suppose you could do that," Julia acquiesced. "What do you want to know?"

"There was a surprising amount of internal bleeding given the trajectory of the bullet that caused the abdominal wound," Hawkes said. "That wound should not have caused that much bleeding, Julia."

"On its own, I'd have to agree with you," Julia said. "Looking at her medical history, though, it looks to me like the bullet aggravated tissue in the abdominal cavity that was already weakened or scarred; tissue that hadn't fully healed yet, and thus was more susceptible to injury than it ordinarily would have been. Given the fact that she has had major surgery in that area within the past year, it's the most logical explanation."

"Look, I know you've been working in the slow lane for a few years, not seeing all that many surgeries in small-town practice," Hawkes said. "But even still, I would hardly consider an appendectomy to be major surgery, Jules."

"Okay, first of all, things were not _that _slow in Minnesota. And second, I don't consider an appendectomy to be major surgery," Julia said defensively. "What does any of that have to do with Detective Bonasera, though?"

"You said major surgery in the past year," Hawkes said. "She's only had one surgery in the past year, Jules. Stella had her appendix removed in November, but nothing more. Sure, there were complications – it ruptured before they could remove it, there was a post-surgical infection, but surgically, it was still just an appendectomy, Jules."

"Sheldon, I don't know where you're getting your information, but Detective Bonasera's medical history indicates that she had her appendix removed when she was twelve," Julia said gently.

"But I visited her in the hospital – heck, I'm pretty sure it was _this _hospital – in November, Jules," Hawkes said. "The whole team was here at one point or another; Stella was here for almost two weeks before she was released. You can't tell me that it didn't happen."

"I'm not saying she didn't have surgery in November, Sheldon," Julia said. "I'm just saying that it sure as hell wasn't an appendectomy."

"Well then, what was it?" Hawkes asked in frustration. "Clearly you know."

"And you ought to know as well as anyone that I can't discuss a patient's medical history with you," Julia said. "I've already said far more than I should have, Sheldon."

"Jules, come on," Sheldon pleaded, interrupted by the shrill ringing of Julia's pager.

Glancing down at her waistband, Julia smiled slightly. "I've got to go," she said, placing the chart back in the pile. "Detective Bonasera is awake."

As he watched her walk down the hall, Hawkes was torn between following her to go see Stella or staying behind to answer his lingering questions. Finally, the same part of him that had led him out of the ME's office and into the field, the little part that just couldn't walk away until all of the puzzle pieces fit together, won out, causing him to reach out and once again pick up the thick chart. Quickly flipping to the medical history he had earlier ignored, his eyes scanned the page until they found the entry he was looking for. Squinting to read the surgeon's sloppy handwriting, Hawkes felt his heart sink with every word he deciphered.

_November 3, 2009 – St. Luke's Hospital, New York, NY – Patient twenty-one weeks pregnant, admitted with abnormal cervical bleeding, contractions reported at five minute intervals. Patient determined to be in full pre-term labor resulting from placental trauma. Initial ultrasound failed to locate cause of bleeding; fetal heartbeat present but weak on first scan. Two rounds terbutaline, one round magnesium sulfate unsuccessful in stopping contractions. Secondary ultrasound revealed heavy intrauterine bleeding, likely from a partial placental abruption; second scan failed to detect fetal heartbeat. Caesarian section performed to remove fetus and stop internal bleeding. Stillborn infant, boy, delivered and declared at 23:09. Despite best efforts, unable to successfully clamp intrauterine bleeding. Final course of action determined to be full hysterectomy. Patient expected to make full recovery._

Hawkes slammed the chart shut, slumping into a nearby chair as the cold medical terminology swirled through his head. He'd performed that surgery a handful of times himself, and he knew it was never as clean as the words made it out to be. Physically, it was a difficult surgery to rebound from, but it was the psychological damage that had always stuck with him. He'd seen the anguish on a father's face as he learned that his child would never take his first breath; he'd seen the heartache and despair in a woman's eyes when he told her that not only had she lost the child she'd been carrying, she would never again have the chance to carry another. The thought that his friends had gone through that, that they'd been suffering in that way and no one had even noticed, made him almost sick to his stomach with guilt.

* * *

"Well, everything seems to be in order here," Julia smiled down at Stella as she completed her examination. "I've had the nurses up the allowances on your morphine drip, so just press the button if you're in pain. It's all preset, so don't worry about pressing it too many times, it still won't give you more than we've determined to be safe."

"Okay," Stella nodded. "How soon can I get out of here?"

"Let's just take this one step at a time, Detective," Julia said. "I need to see some improvement in your blood counts before we even start that conversation. You're going to be with us at least a week, probably more. We'll get you home as soon as we can, but only when your body is ready for it, not one day sooner."

"Fine," Stella sighed. "Could you send my husband back in?"

"Sure," Julia said. "Just try and get some rest, alright? It will help, I promise. I know you've got a lot of people here who want to see you, but I will limit your visiting hours if I think you're not getting enough rest."

"Understood," Stella said.

"Good," Julia nodded. "I'll let your husband know he can come back in."

* * *

"I hear she's awake," Mac said, taking a seat next to Don just outside Stella's hospital room. "Why aren't you in there with her?"

"The doctor wanted to examine her," Don said. "The nurses told me to wait out here."

"But she's going to be okay," Mac said. "Now that she's awake, it means that she's going to recover. Doesn't it?"

"I don't know," Don sighed. "I don't have any idea what's going on. But I think it's a good sign…she seemed alright. Tired, and in a lot of pain, but at least she seemed like herself."

"Well, who else would she be?" Mac asked.

"It's just, the last time…" Don began before catching himself.

"Last time?" Mac asked in confusion.

"It's nothing," Don said quickly. "Just forget I said anything, Mac."

"I don't think so," Mac said. "What's going on, Don? Did something happen before all of this?"

"Now isn't the time," Don began, pausing as the door to Stella's room opened and Dr. Harper stepped out. Quickly standing up, Don and Mac both moved toward the woman.

"Detective Flack, your wife is asking for you," Julia said.

"Is she going to be alright?" Don asked anxiously.

"I'd still like to see some improvements in her blood counts," Julia said. "But at this point, I'd say her chances are much improved and there's certainly room for cautious optimism. She's still going to be very weak for a while, though, so she's going to need plenty of rest."

"Can I see her?" Don asked.

"Of course," Julia said. "Just try to keep her calm, if you can. Emotional stress will not help the situation any right now. And I know you've got a lot of people anxious to see her, but let's try to keep it to one or two visitors at a time."

"Well, I'm heading down to the cafeteria to meet Danny and Lindsay anyway," Mac said. "You want anything, Don?"

"Nah," Don said.

"Alright, but you really should eat soon," Mac said. "You're starting to look a little ragged, Don. Tell Stella I'll be in soon, okay?"

* * *

"So, I've got good news and I've got bad news," Samantha announced, walking into Stella's room a few minutes later.

"Sam, now's not…" Don began, knowing his sister was off in her own little world, completely oblivious to the fact that Stella was awake.

"Trust me, you want to hear this," Samantha said, reaching into her bag and pulling out a few Jell-o cups. "So, good news is that the cafeteria finally restocked the strawberry Jell-o. This morning, all they had was that nasty lime stuff, and you know how much I hate citrus, Donnie."

"Sam…" Don said, a warning tone in his voice. "Stella and I really don't care about strawberry Jell-o right now."

"Oh!" Samantha exclaimed, looking sheepishly at the bed, where Stella was fighting back a giggle at the siblings' interaction. "Hi…I'm Samantha, but you probably know that, right?"

"Yeah," Stella smiled. "And don't worry, I kind of like strawberry Jell-o."

"Thank you!" Samantha cried, vindication in her tone as she flopped into the chair on the opposite side of Stella's bed, pulling out a plastic spoon and peeling the lid off her snack. "See Donnie, I knew I was gonna like her."

"You said something about bad news, Sam?" Don asked impatiently.

"Oh, right," Samantha mumbled through bites of her Jell-o. "Uh, well, I think the word is out about your little secret marriage."

"Out to who?" Don asked. "It's already common knowledge around here."

"Yeah, well, I don't know who called him, but Bobby's called me seven times in the last hour and a half," Samantha said. "And, um…"

"Out with it, Sam," Don insisted.

"Ma and Dad are in the lobby, and they really don't look happy," Samantha admitted as Don let out a low groan and slipped back in his chair.


	12. Fear of God

**A/N:** I know, I know, a huge delay in getting this posted - a thousand and one apologies from me to you! Consider this chapter my Valentine's Day gift to all my loyal readers who are still reading even with the big delay. I promise the next chapter will not take nearly so long to get up!

* * *

"Why are you lookin' at me like that?" Samantha asked cautiously.

"I was just thinkin'…" Don began.

"No," Samantha interrupted, knowing exactly where he was headed. "Don't you dare even think about askin' me to deal with this for you, Donnie. You're the one who went and got yourself married without tellin' anyone; you can handle Ma on your own."

"Come on, Sam," Don sighed. "After all the times I bailed you out? All the times I dealt with them when you were in jail, or too hung over to talk to anyone?"

"Don't throw those in my face," Samantha countered. "I never asked you to do that."

"You're the one who called me," Don argued. "Just keep them away for a few more hours, Sam. You owe me at least that much."

"A few hours isn't going to calm Ma down, you know," Samantha said. "She's gonna want a damn good explanation, Donnie…not to mention your wedding pictures, the whole nine yards."

"Pictures?" Stella asked, smirking slightly as Don bit his lower lip to keep from laughing.

"Of course," Samantha said. "What, you think Ma's not gonna want to see what your dress looked like? Stella, she's totally gonna be all over you until she gets all the details."

"Good luck with that one," Don scoffed.

"What do you mean?" Samantha asked.

"Stella, you wanna tell her about your dress?" Don asked.

"What dress?" Stella asked in amusement.

"Yeah, that's what I was talkin' about," Don said.

"You didn't have a dress?" Samantha asked. "Come on, everyone has a wedding dress, Stella. You had to have worn something."

"Oh, it was somethin'," Don said. "That whole day was somethin', that's for sure…"

"_So, you're really ready to do this?" Stella asked, leaning forward and resting her forearms on the kitchen counter as she watched him preparing breakfast._

"_You're not having second thoughts, are you?" Don asked in concern, carefully setting the spatula down and turning to look at her._

"_No, of course not," Stella assured him. "I just…we're taking a big step here, Don. We still haven't even told anyone about the baby."_

"_Did you want to tell them first?" Don asked. "Because we don't have to do this like this, if you don't want to. We can have the big wedding with the two hundred guests and the huge wedding party and the fluffy white dress and the flowers and the big cake…"_

"_Okay, stop right there," Stella interrupted him. "The cake is the only part of that that sounds even remotely appealing. And I can have cake any day of the week; I don't need a wedding for that."_

"_So you want to do it this way?" Don asked._

"_Yeah, I do," Stella said. "No fanfare, no stupid dress that I won't fit into anyway, none of that. Just a simple fifteen minute ceremony down at the courthouse. I don't even want to have to dress up."_

"_So I don't have to wear a suit?" Don asked._

"_I was planning on wearing jeans myself," Stella said. "I'm not sure a suit would go so well with those."_

"_You're gonna get married in jeans?" Don asked._

"_Don't even start with me," Stella scolded. "Right now, those jeans are pretty much the only thing that I can fit into without feeling like a stuffed sausage roll."_

"_Now that's not true," Don protested._

"_I'm getting fat, Don," Stella said. "You should be prepared for that…you're getting a wife who's about to get huge."_

"_You are not fat, Stella," Don insisted. "You are gorgeous, and you're always going to be gorgeous. You can barely even tell that you're pregnant, and even if you were fifty pounds heavier, it wouldn't matter, because you're having a baby. Trust me, there's nothing sexier than that."_

"_You really think so?" Stella asked in disbelief._

"_Of course I do," Don said, moving around the counter to pull her into his arms. "You are beautiful, and I'm always going to think that."_

"_Um…Don?" Stella said, with just a hint of urgency in her voice as she pulled back slightly from his embrace._

"_What?" Don asked in confusion._

"_You're burning the eggs," Stella said, stifling a giggle as Don whipped around to see the small fire burning in his frying pan._

"_Damn it!" he exclaimed, quickly grabbing the fire extinguisher from the other side of the kitchen and fumbling to direct the hose at the stove._

"_Detective Bonasera," the judge smiled as he stood up from behind his desk to greet Don and Stella as they walked into his office. "What a pleasure to see you again."_

"_Judge McKenzie, thank you for seeing us on such short notice," Stella said, shaking the man's hand. "This is Don Flack. Don, this is Judge Michael McKenzie."_

"_Detective Flack, it's good to meet you," the elderly judge said, closing the door as Don and Stella stepped fully into the office. "I must say, Stella, I was quite surprised when I got your call the other day. Probably the second time you've caught me completely off guard."_

"_What was the first?" Don asked curiously._

"_The first time she showed up to testify in my courtroom," Judge McKenzie said with a laugh. "Nearly fell right out of my seat when the prosecutor called Office Stella Bonasera, let me tell you. Never thought I'd see the day."_

"_Why?" Don asked._

"_Do we have to talk about this now?" Stella asked, the color rising in her cheeks._

"_I used to sit in juvenile court," Judge McKenzie said. "I can't tell you the number of times this young lady passed through my courtroom when she was a teenager."_

"_Stella?" Don asked in surprise._

"_So I've been arrested once or twice," Stella said. "I was a foster kid, I got into trouble, it happens all the time."_

"_Still, I was certain she was heading down the wrong path," Judge McKenzie said. "So I set her into one of those new-age alternative education programs. And what do you know, fifteen years later, she shows up in my courtroom on the other side of the law."_

"_Okay, I did not come here to talk about the past," Stella interrupted._

"_No, no, of course not," Judge McKenzie smiled. "I must say, you're certainly dressed-down for the occasion, though."_

"_We didn't want any big fuss," Don said._

"_Of course," the judge nodded, opening the door a crack. "Julie, could you and Maria please come in for a few moments?"_

"_Witnesses," Stella whispered in answer to Don's unspoken question._

"_Alright then, are we ready to begin the ceremony?" Judge McKenzie asked. "Do you have the license, Stella?"_

"Okay, so if you didn't wear a dress, what did you wear?" Samantha asked, breaking into the memory Stella and Don both seemed to be sharing.

"Jeans," Stella said.

"And my Yankees jacket," Don added.

"You wore jeans?" Samantha asked in surprise. "Seriously? You got married in jeans? What, did the bridesmaids wear plaid shirts or somethin'?"

"No bridesmaids," Stella said.

"Just the two of us," Don explained. "Oh, and the judge's two clerks for witnesses."

"Oh man, you are in such big trouble," Samantha observed. "When Ma finds out that you didn't even get married right…"

"There's no right way to get married," Stella interrupted. "That's ridiculous."

"Try tellin' that to Ma," Samantha laughed. "You two are so not off to a good start, I can tell you that."

* * *

"You know, one of these days she's going to make it more than four hours without needing a new outfit," Danny commented as he carried Allie back into the lobby of the hospital.

"I wouldn't count on it," Lindsay said, shaking her head as she tossed her car keys back in the diaper bag. "She's a girl, Danny…just wait until she's a teenager and she asks for your credit card to go shopping on Fifth Avenue."

"Hey, you watch what you say, Montana," Danny scolded. "No daughter of mine's gonna be caught dead in one of those snobby, over-priced stores. Three thousand bucks for a pair of jeans? I don't think so. No way."

"Right," Lindsay nodded. "Because you're so good at saying no?"

"I can say no," Danny said.

"Danny, I hate to break it to you, but this little girl's got you hook, line and sinker," Lindsay laughed. "She's not even old enough to ask for things yet, and you already spoil her rotten."

"I most certainly do not," Danny protested.

"Oh, you definitely do," Lindsay said.

"I do no such…" Danny's voice trailed off as he caught sight of the older couple near the triage desk on the other side of the lobby.

"Hey, why'd you stop?" Lindsay asked in confusion as Danny stopped dead in his tracks.

"Oh, this is bad news," Danny muttered. "This is bad…bad, bad, bad."

"What are you talking about?" Lindsay asked, growing more and more confused as Danny quickly handed Allie to her and pulled out his cell phone. Shaking her head, she turned to the baby and smiled. "Sweetie, I think Daddy's lost his mind. I know, he's always been a little crazy…but maybe now he's really crazy."

"C'mon, pick up," Danny sighed in frustration as he hung up the phone without success. "Nope, this is not good."

"You care to explain, Danny?" Lindsay asked.

"See that couple over there?" Danny asked.

"The one by the reception desk?" Lindsay asked. "Yeah, I see them. What about them?"

"That would be Don Flack, Sr., and his wife Gina," Danny said.

"Don's parents?" Lindsay asked. "Okay, how is that bad news? Of course they're here, their daughter-in-law was injured last night."

"Yeah, the daughter-in-law they didn't know about," Danny pointed out. "Do you have any idea how much trouble Flack's gonna be in? Oh man, they're gonna tear into him, Linds, I'm tellin' you, it's gonna be carnage."

"Don't exaggerate, Danny," Lindsay said. "I'm sure Don's father isn't going to be that hard on him."

"Captain Flack?" Danny asked in confusion. "No, I'm not talkin' about his father, I'm talkin' about Gina. That woman can be absolutely terrifying. She can be a real sweetheart when she wants to be, but step one toe out of line, and it's like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde or somethin', she's a different woman."

"Okay, now you're getting carried away," Lindsay said. "Danny, the woman is five feet, if that, and probably one hundred pounds dripping wet. She's tiny…how could she be that scary?"

"She just is," Danny insisted. "I'm tellin' you, if Don knows she's here, he's quakin' in his boots right about now. Lindsay, Gina Flack is the sort of woman who'd put the fear of God in the devil himself if he dared to cross her."

* * *

"Why are you still lookin' at me like that?" Samantha asked her brother warily as she noticed him stealing glances in her direction. "No…hell no, Donnie. I am still not dealing with Ma for you. You're the one who rushed off and got married without tellin' her. You deal with the consequences."

"Deal with the consequences?" Don asked in disbelief. "Oh, that's rich coming from you, Sam."

"Seriously, Don?" Samantha snapped. "You really think that now's a good time to tellin' me I'm a screw up?"

"Not that it'll do any good," Don retorted. "You ever think that maybe you should grow up just a bit?"

Stella closed her eyes as the yelling grew louder, shaking her head as the two stubborn Flack siblings battled it out across her bed.

"Guys, please," Stella said softly, her voice going undetected amid the flurry of insults and accusations flying back and forth around her.

Sighing, Stella slowly lifted her arms, reaching out and, with much effort on her part, grabbing both Don and Samantha by the edge of their shirts. Taking a breath to gather what little strength she had, Stella pulled hard and smiled in satisfaction as the two instantly stopped talking as they tried to figure out how they had ended up hunched over the bed.

"That's much better," Stella said. "Honestly, you'd think the two of you were five years old."

"Stel, I…" Don began.

"Did I say I was finished?" Stella asked, glaring at her husband, who sheepishly shook his head.

"I didn't think so," Stella continued. "Now, Don, I love you, but if the two of you are going to act like five year olds, I'm going to treat you like five year olds. So, here's what we're going to do. I'm exhausted, so I'm going to lie here and I'm going to rest. Remember that word? Rest? It's what people do after major surgery. You two yelling at each other across my bed? Not restful. So, I'm going to rest. And while I rest, you are going to go talk to your mother."

"Ha," Samantha said, smirking as Don groaned again.

"_Both_ of you," Stella emphasized. "And don't even think of not going, because I may be in a hospital bed right now, but I won't be here forever…and you so don't want to be on my bad side when I get released. Am I understood?"

"Yes," they both mumbled.

"Good," Stella nodded. "Now, I'm going to sleep. And when I wake up, you'd better not be back here unless you've talked to your mother."


	13. Reasons

**A/N: **Eek! An update! I know, I know, try to fall over from shock, dear readers. If you're reading this note, I can't thank you enough for coming back to this story after the (far too long) hiatus that I was forced to take. I am so, so happy to be writing again - it was torture to have all these stories out here that I wasn't able to continue sharing with my loyal readers! I apologize for leaving you hanging for so long - trust me, I hope and pray that my life never turns itself upside down like that again!!

Now, of course, it is time to get back to our regularly scheduled programming...enjoy!!

* * *

"Knock, knock," Mac said softly, gently knocking on the door as he stepped cautiously into Stella's hospital room not long after the Flack siblings had reluctantly left to find their parents.

"Hey Mac," Stella said, managing a smile in spite of the pain. "Come on in."

"I can come back later if you need to rest," Mac offered, still hovering near the doorway.

"I'm not getting much sleep anyway," Stella assured him. "Not with the nurses coming in every half an hour to take my vitals and make sure I'm still breathing. Trust me, I'd rather have some company than pass the time counting the ceiling tiles."

"Where'd you send Flack off to?" Mack asked curiously. "He's barely left your side since they brought you out of surgery."

"He and Sam went to find their parents," Stella said.

"They're here?" Mac asked.

"That's what Samantha said," Stella said. "She didn't seem to thrilled about it, either. Apparently, they aren't exactly happy with the whole secret-marriage thing."

"No, I don't imagine that that's the sort thing that would sit well with Gina Flack," Mac agreed. "I certainly wouldn't want to get on her bad side, that's for sure."

"You know her?" Stella asked in surprise.

"Not really," Mac said. "I know _of_ her, more than anything. I think I was introduced in passing at a few department events before Captain Flack retired. She's tough, at least from everything I've heard."

"Well, I hope she sends Don back in one piece," Stella said. "I've gotten sort of attached to him."

"So I've heard," Mac said. "You never were one to do things the normal way, were you, Stella?"

"You know me," Stella said with a small smile. "I like to keep things interesting."

"Well, I suppose interesting would be one word to describe the last twenty-four hours," Mac agreed. "Although, I'm sure I could think of more than a few other words, too."

"I know," Stella said, understanding Mac's implications perfectly. "And I'm sorry, Mac, I really am. You have to know, this wasn't how I wanted any of you to find out. This isn't how I planned it…"

"Most people don't plan to get shot," Mac pointed out.

"That is not what I meant," Stella sighed. "I know you're upset, Mac. You're trying to hide it, but I can see it…I just need you to that I'm sorry, Mac. I'm so sorry that this is how you found out."

"Were you ever going to tell me?" Mac asked. "Were either of you ever planning on telling anyone that you were married?"

"Of course I was going to tell you," Stella replied quickly. "It's just…I don't, everything was so complicated, Mac. Everything kept changing…eventually it just became easier to keep our mouths shut than to try to explain everything. It was wrong, I know. We should have just come right out and told people, but I can't change the past, Mac. You're mad, aren't you?"

"No, I'm not," Mac said carefully. "I can't pretend that it doesn't bother me, Stella, I can't sit here and act like I'm not upset…but I'm not mad at you."

"I don't regret it," Stella said. "I don't regret doing things the way we did, but part of me does wish we'd done it differently…then at least maybe you could be happy for us."

"I never said I wasn't," Mac said, eliciting a look of confusion from Stella. "Look, Stella, you're my best friend, so of course I'm going to hurt that you didn't confide in me, that there's this huge part of your life that you didn't let me be a part of. I would have liked to think that our relationship was strong enough that there wasn't anything that you felt that you couldn't tell me, and yeah, it does hurt that apparently I was wrong about that."

"Mac…" Stella began softly.

"Just hold on," Mac interrupted. "I can't sit here and tell you that it doesn't upset me, Stella. No matter what, our relationship has never been that way…you've always been able to see through crap like that, so why bother pretending?"

Mac paused for a moment, reaching out and taking Stella's hand in his as she reluctantly turned her head back toward him, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

"Having said all of that," Mac continued. "You're still my best friend, Stella, no matter what. All I've ever wanted is to see you find yourself a good man, someone who'll treat you the way you deserve to be treated. Someone who'll take care of you, who'll protect you…not because you need protection, because Lord knows you could kick just about anyone's ass yourself, but because he loves you so much that if something happened to you, his world would fall apart. Most of all, I just want you to be with someone you love and who makes you happy."

"He does, Mac," Stella assured him. "Don is all of that and more…if you just give us a chance, I think you'll see that we really are happy."

"I see it already," Mac said. "That's why, in spite of everything, I am happy for you, Stella. I know I'm not showing it very well right now, but I really am. You've just got to give me a little time to get used to the idea of you being a married woman now."

"I think I can do that," Stella said, smiling slightly as Mac squeezed her hand reassuringly.

* * *

"You ready for this?" Don asked Samantha as they hovered nervously near the side of the lobby, watching their parents argue with an exasperated triage nurse.

"Are you?" Samantha countered.

"Is anyone ever actually ready for this particular brand of torture?" Don asked in response.

"I suppose not," Samantha admitted, taking a sharp breath as she saw her mother turn around and instinctively settle her gaze on her two children. "Ready or not, I think we've been spotted, Donnie."

"If I don't make it out alive, make sure you tell Stella that I love her," Don muttered, already wincing as his mother quickly closed the gap between them, stopping front of her son and silently crossing her arms over her chest as she glared at him, her husband hovering hesitantly behind her.

"Hi Ma," Don said meekly, failing miserably at his attempt to sound casual and unconcerned by his mother's presence.

"Oh, don't you dare," Gina Flack practically hissed at her son, poking a finger into his chest. "You might as well just keep your mouth shut, Donnie. Shouldn't be hard for you, though…I gather you're good at that these days."

"Ma, I…" Don began.

"Just don't," Gina interrupted. "Unless you're going to tell me that it's not true. Is that what you're going to tell me, Donald? That I heard wrong? That you didn't run off and get married behind my back? That I don't have a daughter-in-law I've never met?"

Don sighed and stared down at the tops of his shoes, unable to meet her harsh gaze.

"That's what I thought," Gina sighed, placing her hands on her hips as she turned to face her daughter. "And you, young lady…what do you have to say for yourself?"

"Me?" Samantha asked anxiously, her voice squeaking in fear.

"Yes, you," Gina said. "Did you know about this? Were you in on it too? Maybe everyone knew about this except me?"

"Of course I didn't know," Samantha said. "Geez, no one knew, Ma, not even their friends."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" Gina asked with a dry laugh. "My son is married to a woman that he's ashamed to tell anyone about, is that it? What the hell sort of woman marries a man without meeting his family, anyway? Honestly, Donnie, what the hell were you thinking?"

"I was thinkin' it was none of your business," Don snapped.

"Don't you speak to your mother in that tone," Captain Flack interrupted his son sternly.

"With all due respect, that's my wife she's talking about," Don argued, his back straightening as he turned to face his father. "If she's going to stand their and trash-talk the woman that I love, then you're just going to have to excuse my tone, because I won't stand for it."

"Donald…" Gina began, her tone heavy with annoyance.

"No, don't even say what you're thinkin' right now, Ma," Don interrupted. "I put up with a lot of crap from you, a lot of your high-strung ideas and strict rules and I never said nothing about it, but you don't get to stand there and accuse me of bein' ashamed of my marriage, because nothing could be further from the truth."

"Just how long did you expect this to go on?" Gina snapped back. "Were you going to hide my grandchildren from me too? Lock them away from the world?"

Samantha watched as her mother continued to rant, a mixture of curiosity and concern hitting her as she watched the way her brother paled at their mother's words, his mind wandering to someplace she just couldn't follow as he completely tuned out the world around him…

"_Stella, I'm home," Don called out, closing the door behind him as he stepped into their apartment. _

_The silence that greeted him as he hung his jacket near the door and removed his gun and holster didn't surprise him. In the two weeks since Stella had come home from the hospital, he'd almost grown used to it._

_He wasn't sure how he had expected Stella to handle their loss, but he certainly hadn't been prepared for her to completely shut down. She didn't cry, she didn't scream, she didn't get mad…she barely even spoke to him anymore. He'd even resorted to doing all the little things that she used to yell at him for – leaving the coffee grounds in the machine, putting his shoes on the coffee table – anything to elicit some sort of emotion, but to no avail. It was as if she were afraid to let him in, to let him see that she was hurting just as much as he was._

"_Stella, I was thinking maybe we…" Don paused as he stepped into the living room, expecting to find Stella in her usual spot, curled up in the window seat staring aimlessly at the city below. Today, though, the seat was glaringly empty and Don was instantly on alert, his concern rising as he quickly moved through the empty rooms of the small apartment._

"_Stella?" he called out again. "Stella, are you here?"_

_Ending up in the kitchen, Don felt his heart sink as his eyes came to rest on the manila envelope in the center of the table. Slowly pulling it open, Don found his worst fears realized as he pulled out the divorce papers and let them fall onto the table, followed closely by Stella's wedding band and a small note._

Don,

Please don't be angry when you read this. I'm giving you an out, Don, no hard feelings. I know you only married me because it was the right thing to do for the baby. I don't want you to feel tied to me by an obligation that doesn't exist anymore. You can move on, find someone who can give you what I can't. I won't hold you back; like I said, no hard feelings.

Always,

Stella

_Setting the note down, Don ran his fingers through his hair in frustration, angry at himself for letting it get to this point, realizing now exactly what it was she had needed to hear from him._

_

* * *

Don rapped impatiently on Lindsay's door, nervously fingering the ring in his pocket as he waited, praying that she was here. Finally, Lindsay pulled open the door, her face contorting into what Don could only think to describe as some sort of combination of relief and rage when she saw him standing outside her apartment._

"_What do you want, Don?" Lindsay asked._

"_Is she here?" Flack asked anxiously._

"_Who?" Lindsay asked innocently, crossing her arms over chest and staring hard at her coworker._

"_Stella," Don said, oblivious to the daggers Lindsay was shooting at him, focusing solely on the woman he was searching for. "I can't think of anywhere else that she'd be that I haven't already looked, Lindsay. Please, is she here? I need to see her, I need to find her, Lindsay."_

"_Maybe she doesn't want to be found, Don," Lindsay said. "I don't know what happened between the two of you, but I've never seen her like this, not after Frankie, not after her apartment burned, never. What did you do to her, Don?"_

"_I didn't…" Don stammered._

"_It had to have had something to do with you," Lindsay interrupted. "I can't just let you in so you can hurt her more."_

"_Lindsay, please," Don pleaded._

"_No, Don, you have to give her time," Lindsay insisted. "I don't…"_

"_It's okay, Lindsay," Stella said softly, standing at the end of the hallway. "He didn't do anything…I did. It's my fault."_

"_Stella," Don sighed, quickly brushing past Lindsay and moving to Stella's side. "Stella, we've been through this. It wasn't your fault, baby…there was nothing you could have done."_

"_No," Stella said stoically, turning away as Don attempted to wrap his arms around her, both of them failing to notice Lindsay quietly slip out of the room. "Don, I can't do this. I can't be who you need me to be, I can't do it."_

"_I don't know what you're thinking, Stel, but whatever it is, it's crazy," Don insisted. "The only person I need is you, Stella. I just need you to talk to me, to let me in just a bit. This doesn't have to end this way."_

"_I think maybe we should just fact it, Don, it was a mistake to start with," Stella said. "We never should have let it get this far."_

"_Stella, please," Don pleaded. "You're hurting, I get that, I do, but how can you just walk away? How can you just give up on us? On what we have?"_

"_What is that, Don? What do we have?" Stella asked. "There's no baby; there's absolutely nothing to keep you here. The way I see it, there's no reason for us to stay married, Don."_

"_No reason?" Don asked in shock. "Stella, I don't know what you're talking about…of course there are reasons for us to stay together."_

"_No, there aren't," Stella insisted. "It's over, Don, I'm walking away; I'm letting you go."_

"_No," Don said resolutely. "No, you don't get to walk away, Stel. Not like this, not without a reason."_

"_I thought I just…" Stella began in confusion._

"_That's not a reason," Don said. "What you just told me, that's an excuse, not a reason. I'm not gonna force you to stay in a marriage you don't want to be in, Stella, but don't think that you're doing me any favors by walking away, because I'm not giving up."_

"_I don't know what I'm supposed to do anymore," Stella admitted, slowly turning to face Don._

"_Just come home," Don said gently, quickly wrapping an arm around her waist, carefully avoiding the still-fresh surgical scars he knew were there. "You don't have to make a decision right now, Stella, but just come home. Don't walk away, not now, not like this, not until we've had a chance to really talk about this."_

"_Okay," Stella said after a moment's hesitation. "This doesn't mean I've changed my mind, though."_

"_I know," Don nodded, kissing her briefly on the cheek. "But it's a start."_


	14. Here and Now

**A/N:** Okay, I hate to even say it, but I think that this story only has maybe 2-3, possibly 4, chapters left...I can hardly believe it's almost all up! I have one more major flashback left after this one, and then perhaps a chapter or two to wrap everything up. Just didn't want you to say I didn't warn you!

* * *

"Are you even listening to me, Donald?" Gina Flack snapped at her son, drawing him quickly out of his memories. "Do you have any idea how this makes your father and I look? Our son being married without anyone knowing it? What sort of parents are people going to think we are?"

"Oh, for cryin' out loud," Samantha exclaimed. "_Now_ you're concerned about your image? _Now_ you're gonna worry about what sort of parents you look like? You've gotta be kidding me!"

"Samantha, don't you even…" Gina began.

"No," Samantha interrupted harshly, shocking even her brother with the intensity of her anger. "Seriously, Ma, what the hell? You let me sit in jail for six months for somethin' I didn't even do, but you think _this _is what's going to make you look like bad parents? Where the hell do you get off, bein' so damn stupid?"

"Do not speak to your mother that way," Don Flack, Sr. interrupted his daughter. "Your mother and I have worked hard to give you opportunities, young lady, and all we've ever wanted is the best for all of our children."

"Right," Samantha said sarcastically. "When was the last time you even spoke to Bobby? Have you ever even seen his kids, Ma? And did it ever occur to you that there's a reason Donnie didn't tell you about Stella? That there's a reason I'm so screwed up? A reason that looks a hell of a lot like the two of you?"

With that, Samantha quickly turned and walked away from her parents, heading off toward the elevators without ever looking back.

"Happy now?" Don asked, crossing his arms over his chest as he turned to look at his father. "What exactly do you two want, anyway? Why are you even here?"

"We want answers, Donnie," Gina said. "I want to know why the hell you got married and didn't tell anyone; I want to know why it took a shooting for us to find out that you have a wife!"

"I can't give you those answers, Ma," Don said. "The fact is, I'm married and you're just going to have to learn to live with it. If you want more than that…well, I'm sorry, but you're not getting it from me."

"Then maybe I'll get it from her," Gina said indignantly. "Maybe your wife will have a little bit more respect than you seem to have. What room is she in?"

"Oh hell no," Don said, shaking his head at his mother. "Not a chance, Ma."

"What?" Gina asked innocently. "I just want to meet her."

"And I'm sure you will," Don said. "But not now, not like this. When Stella is better, when she's been home for a while, had a chance to recover from all of this…well, I know she'll want to meet you. But not today, because quite frankly, Ma, you are the last thing she needs to be dealing with right now."

"Don't be dramatic, Donald," Gina snapped.

"Dramatic?" Don asked incredulously. "Do you have any idea what she's been through, Ma? She was _shot_, for God's sake, shot in the chest, Ma. That's not some scratch…she just got out of major surgery, and she's not out of the woods yet. The doc said she needs rest, not more stress…and don't take this the wrong way, Ma, but you are stress, and I will not let you put her life in danger just so you can try to stick your nose in where it don't belong in the first place. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going back up to see my wife."

"Well, I never," Gina huffed, turning to her husband as Don turned on his heel and walked away from her. "Are you just going to let him get away with that?"

"I think maybe we need to let this one slide, Gina," the elder Flack said, placing a restraining hand on his wife's forearm as he watched his son stride away.

* * *

"Hey guys," Lindsay said, stepping into Stella's hospital room. "I thought I heard someone was awake…finally."

"Hey now," Stella warned. "Let's not go and be mad at the one who got herself shot, alright?"

"Sorry, Stella," Lindsay laughed. "It's good to see you awake."

"Thanks," Stella said. "Where's Allie? Is she here?"

"She's with Danny," Lindsay said. "She's just a little below the visiting age, you know."

"I should probably step out," Mac interrupted, quickly rising from his spot next to Stella's bed. "I've got a few phone calls I need to make. I'll come check on you later, alright?"

"Sure," Stella nodded, squeezing Mac's hand gently before he pulled away and left the room.

"Okay, we need to talk," Lindsay said urgently, quickly moving into the chair Mac had just vacated.

"Alright," Stella agreed hesitantly. "What's going on?"

"I have a problem," Lindsay said. "A big problem. Huge, really. Massive."

"Lindsay, what's wrong?" Stella asked in concern.

"It's just, you getting shot, and seeing how Don was, it got me thinking," Lindsay said. "And then people were making comments…well, they've always made comments, but I guess I just started listening now…and I don't know, I just…"

"Lindsay, what's the problem?" Stella interrupted, knowing if she didn't, Lindsay could go on and on without ever reaching the point.

"I think I'm in love with Danny," Lindsay admitted.

"Only you, kiddo," Stella shook her head as she laughed slightly. "Only you would think that it's a problem to be in love with the father of your child."

"But what do I do about it?" Lindsay asked in frustration. "I mean, there's just so much history there, we can't just start over."

"I'd say you start by telling him that you love him," Stella said.

"I don't know…" Lindsay hesitated.

"It's not as though you've never told him that before," Stella pointed out.

"Yeah, but it's been a while," Lindsay sighed. "I don't think I've said it since before I got pregnant. That's a long time, Stella…what if I say it and he doesn't feel the same way anymore?"

"Lindsay, that's just insane," Stella said. "Danny Messer is head over heals in love with you – trust me, if anything, he loves you more now than he ever did the last time you guys were together."

"Why does everything have to be so complicated?" Lindsay asked in frustration. "I feel like we went through all of this the first go-around – the awkward phases, the freaking out about saying 'I love you', all of it – and now we'd have to start at square one again."

"I think you're making excuses," Stella said. "You're scared of getting hurt again – which is completely understandable, don't get me wrong – but you're letting it hold you back. Sometimes, you just have to take a risk and put it all out there."

"Did Don say it back the first time you told him?" Lindsay asked.

"Actually, he said it first," Stella said with a small smile on her lips.

"Are you kidding me?" Lindsay asked in surprise. "He seriously said it before you did?"

"I don't think he meant to – I think it sort of just slipped out – but yeah, he did," Stella said, her mind wandering as Lindsay noticed a faraway look in her eyes…

"_Why won't you just sign the papers, Don?" Stella asked, pushing the divorce papers across the kitchen table at him. "You said that you would."_

"_No, I didn't," Don argued, pushing the paperwork back at Stella._

"_You said that you wouldn't force me to stay in a marriage I didn't want to be in," Stella said calmly. "I signed, Don."_

"_But you still haven't said it," Don pointed out, leaning across the table to place his hand on top of hers. "Go ahead, Stel. Look me in the eyes and tell me that you don't want to be in this marriage, and I'll sign right now."_

"_I don't…" Stella began, slowly biting her lower lip as the words froze in the back of her throat. "Why won't you just let me go, Don? You have no idea what the last few weeks have been like for me."_

"_God, you are infuriating sometimes, you know that?" Don snapped, pulling his hand back. "Do you think this has been easy for me, Stella? Do you think that you're the only one who's hurting here? He was my son, too, Stella. You're not the only one that got hurt here."_

"_I know that, but…" Stella started to explain._

"_No, no 'but'," Don interrupted. "You act like you're going through this all alone, but you won't even talk to me; it's like you're not you anymore, and I don't know how to get you back."_

"_I'm right here, Don," Stella said in confusion._

"_Are you really, though?" Don asked. "You don't talk, you don't laugh…hell, have you even cried yet, Stella? I miss talking to you, I miss holding you, I miss fighting with you…I miss the real you, Stella."_

"_Don…" Stella began, tears welling up in her eyes._

"_No, I need to finish," Don interrupted again. "Look, you want me to sign these papers, but I can't, Stella. I knew exactly what I was doin' when I married you, and it had nothing to do with you bein' pregnant. So, no, I'm not gonna force you to stay married to me, but I want my wife to be the one who tells me she wants out, not this shell of a person you are right now, because that's not who I married. Yeah, physically, you're here, but that's all. The woman I married? The woman I fell in love with? I don't know where the hell she is, Stella, but she sure ain't here."_

"_The woman you…you fell in love with?" Stella asked tentatively, the tears now streaming down her face. "You never said anything, Don…all this time…you never said anything."_

"_I thought I'd scare you away," Don admitted. "I guess I was afraid if I said anything, you'd run."_

"_I need to hear it, Don," Stella said, her voice shaking with emotion. "I need to hear you say it."_

"_Okay," Don nodded, moving out of his chair so that he was kneeling in front of Stella, reaching one hand up to wipe the tears from her cheeks as she bowed her head down toward him._

"_I need to hear it," Stella repeated fearfully._

"_I love you," Don said. "I love you so much, Stella."_

"_Even without the baby?" Stella asked nervously._

"_I loved you before the baby, Stella," Don assured her. "Don't get me wrong, I loved that baby, Stella, and I wanted him here just as much as you did…but just because he's not coming home, doesn't mean I stopped loving you. I don't think there's anything that could change how much I love you, Stella."_

"_I miss him," Stella admitted tearfully, her forehead resting on Don's._

"_I know," Don sighed, slowly easing himself up so that he was once again sitting beside her, gently wrapping his arms around her as her head came to rest on his shoulder. "I know, Stella."_


	15. Equal Intent

**A/N: **New experience writing this chapter...when I write, I have a generally concrete plan for where I want things to end up, for the types of conversations I want the characters to have and the flashbacks I want to work into each chapter. Of course, there is leeway for organic development as the story evolves, but when I sit down to write a chapter, I am rarely surprised by the result. This chapter, though, is a totally different animal entirely - this is the first time that I've had a scene literally sneak up on my from nowhere and force itself into my story (so to speak). It happened, though, and I'm glad it did. I think it adds a great element to this story, and makes some characters (one in particular) a bit more well-rounded and interesting. In case you're curious, the scene I'm talking about is the last one in the chapter. And yes, it does take the place of the flashback I had intended to include in this chapter (which is my favorite of all the flashbacks I've written), but don't worry, I'll just adjust my plan for the next chapter and get it in there! In the meantime, I think you all are really going to enjoy this chapter - it's got a lot of good stuff going on!

* * *

"Hey you," Don whispered, leaning in to kiss Stella as she slowly opened her eyes to find her husband once again seated in the chair beside her bed, resting his head on the railing of the hospital bed.

"Hi," Stella smiled. "Where'd Lindsay go?"

"To check on Danny and Allie," Don said. "Said she figured she'd better let you get a little rest, seein' as you couldn't really keep your eyes open."

"Did I fall asleep?" Stella asked in confusion.

"Yeah, you kind of did," Don said. "Don't worry, Monroe's got a thick skin, she understood you weren't tryin' to say she's boring or somethin'."

"Still, I shouldn't have…" Stella began.

"Stel, it's okay," Don interrupted. "You just had major surgery, sweetheart, no one expects you to have a ton of energy right now."

"I know," Stella agreed reluctantly, leaning her head against her pillow as she ran her hand across his shoulder, instantly sensing the tension. "Did you and Sam find your parents?"

"Oh, we found 'em alright," Don said, cringing slightly.

"I take it that didn't go well?" Stella asked.

"No, it didn't," Don said simply.

"You want to talk about it?" Stella asked gently.

"She's so damn judgmental," Don sighed. "She's always been that way – it's her way or the highway, and God help you if you don't conform exactly to her standards of behavior. And, like always, my dad just stands there, let's her get away with it. I guess I should be used to it by now…after all these years, I ought to stop expectin' things the suddenly be different."

"I'm sorry," Stella said, running her hand over his cheek as he turned to face her. "Did they leave?"

"I don't know," Don admitted. "I kinda stormed off, didn't stick around to see where they were headed."

"What exactly did she say?" Stella asked curiously.

"She was upset," Don said. "She was just talkin' about how disappointed she was, how I was gonna make her look bad…it's always been all about appearances for my mother. She's consistent if nothing else, I'll give the woman that much. She just doesn't know when to quit."

"What about your father?" Stella asked. "Did he say anything?"

"Not much," Don said with a quick shake of his head. "That's just how they are…Ma does the talkin', Dad just stands there and listens. He pipes up every now and then, but never with more than few words here and there. I've never understood that...it sort of pisses me off that he lets her get away with the way she acts."

"She's not going to like me, is she?" Stella asked knowingly.

"It doesn't mattered," Don assured her. "I don't like her all that much, so we can call it even."

"Don," Stella said, shaking her head as she chuckled just a bit. "She's your mother, you have to like her."

"No, I have to love her," Don corrected. "But just because I love her, doesn't mean I have to like her. I think you'd be hard pressed to find someone who actually likes my mother these days. I'm not even sure my father likes her all that much."

"Isn't that a little harsh?" Stella asked.

"You know that censor that most people have in their head? The one that stops you from saying every little thing that pops into your head and telling everyone exactly what you think?" Don asked as Stella nodded. "Well, my mother's censor was always a little weak, but the last ten or fifteen years, it's been almost nonexistent. It's great fun when she's going off about someone else, but when it's your turn…well, her honesty isn't always refreshing."

* * *

Danny smiled as he set his daughter into the lone high chair he'd managed to find in the hospital cafeteria, reaching into her bag and pulling out the food Lindsay had packed for her.

"I know, I know," Danny shook his head as he twisted the lid off the first tiny bottle of baby food. "It's no Nathan's hot dog, but it's what Mommy wants you to eat, and if there's one thing I've learned, it's that your mommy's usually right, so you're just going to have to put up with whatever this mush is for a little while longer. I promise, as soon as you're eating real food all the time, instead of just once a day, Daddy's going to take you out and introduce you to all the best foods."

Danny paused, sniffing the baby food and contorting his face into a look of disgust as he took a small spoonful and offered it to Allie.

"Yeah, it's a good thing you don't know any better yet," Danny laughed as he watched the way she gobbled it up eagerly. "One day, Daddy's going to take you to Coney Island for real New York hot dogs, and you're going to wonder how you ever managed to eat this crap. And don't even get me started on how much you are going to love real, honest-to-goodness, New York-style pizza. Meatball pizza, in slices so big you gotta fold 'em in half to pick up 'em up...you are going to just go nuts over that stuff, Allie. And we'll introduce you to some good, old-fashioned New York cheesecake…you'll never look back after that one, I guarantee you that. Of course, you've already tried Grandma's spaghetti, so you know that's a lot better than this garbage I'm feeding you now…oh, but don't tell Mommy that I called it that, alright? She says it's organic, so it's good for you."

Danny reached into the bag again, this time pulling out a cloth rag to wipe down Allie's face, which was by this point covered in almost as much food as he'd managed to put in her mouth.

"At least you've got the messy thing down," Danny chuckled. "That one you get from your mother, so don't go blamin' me, alright? Your mother is a very, very messy eater…always gettin' spaghetti sauce down her shirt, spillin' on the table, the whole nine yards. Sorry, I think you got that gene from her, kiddo. But don't worry, because I think it's cute…I love that you and your mommy are a little bit messy."

Danny sighed as he slipped the rag into a plastic bag, returning it to the diaper bag to be washed later with the rest of Allie's things. Carefully removing her from the high chair, he placed her in his lap as he leaned back in the chair, smiling at the way she instinctively turned her head to look up at him, her big eyes sparkling even in the harsh hospital light.

"You know that, don't you, sweetheart?" Danny asked, running a finger across her chest. "I love you very, very much…even when you're crying at three in the morning, I love you, even if I don't say it then. Do you know that? And I know maybe she doesn't feel the same way, but I want you to know that I love your mommy just as much…you and your mommy, you're everything I could have ever wanted. And I know that Daddy was very stupid, and I messed all that up, but don't think that any of that has anything to do with you, alright? Because I will always love you, forever and ever…got it? And the same goes for your mommy, too…I will always love your mommy, even if she doesn't feel the same way about me."

"And if she does?" a shaky voice asked from behind Danny, who instantly whipped around in his seat to find himself face to face with Lindsay.

"Linds, I…" Danny began.

"Did you mean it?" Lindsay asked, nervously clasping and unclasping her hands in front of her as she carefully avoided his gaze while she waited for his answer.

"Every word," Danny said. "I love you, Lindsay, and nothing will ever change that. I know I've screwed up…"

"I love you too," Lindsay admitted tearfully.

"You do?" Danny asked in surprise.

"I've tried not to," Lindsay said, taking a step closer to Danny. "Believe me, I tried everything I could think of to stop loving you…but even when I was hating you for what you did to us, I couldn't stop loving you too. You're a hard man to love, Danny Messer, but it turns out that you're an even harder one not to."

Danny smiled as he ran a hand up Lindsay's arm, pulling her down toward him until their lips met for the first time in well over a year. The kiss was gentle at first, both of them hesitant, not wanting to scare the other away, both terrified that they'd pull away only to find the other changing their mind. Slowly, carefully, Lindsay leaned in just a bit further, Danny pressed just a bit harder, and suddenly both her hands were on the sides of his face, his arm wrapping tighter around her waist as she desperately fought to steady her knees against the torrent of electricity coursing through both their bodies.

Only the sudden and sharp cry of their daughter, still nestled comfortably against the crook of Danny's other arm, forced them to reluctantly pull apart as she swatted playfully at the air in her mother's direction.

"Uh oh," Danny laughed as Lindsay grinned sheepishly. "I think someone's a little jealous."

"She's just going to have to get used to sharing you," Lindsay said, carefully perching herself on Danny's other leg.

"Promise?" Danny asked hopefully.

"I promise," Lindsay said. "I don't know how we do this, I don't know exactly where we go from here, but we'll figure it out…together."

"Together," Danny repeated, savoring the word as he said it.

"As a family," Lindsay added, quickly kissing Allie on the forehead before leaning in for a much different sort of kiss with Danny.

* * *

"Didn't think I'd find you out here," Don Flack, Sr. commented quietly as he sat down in a chair in the waiting room several hours later, leaning forward to rest his forearms on his legs, his position matching exactly that of his son next to him.

"They took Stella up for some more tests," the younger Flack commented. "Where's Ma?"

"I took her home," Captain Flack said. "She needed some time to cool down, get some sleep, put things in perspective."

Don nodded, not ever taking his eyes off the tiny coffee stain on the carpet that he'd been studying intently since before his father's arrival.

"She means well, you know," Captain Flack offered.

"Bullshit," Don scoffed. "No offense, Dad, but that's what people say when they don't have any actual excuses for what someone did. Ma sure seems to 'mean well' an awful lot."

"She thinks she's lost you," Captain Flack said. "She knew she'd lost Bobby, she knew she was losing Samantha, but this…she thinks you kept this from her because you'd pulled away, and it blindsided her."

"It had nothing to do with her," Don insisted. "Why are you always defending her?"

"She's my wife," Captain Flack shrugged. "What am I supposed to do?"

"Gee, I don't know," Don said sarcastically. "Maybe if you'd told her to back off a few years back, Bobby wouldn't have moved to California. Maybe if you'd stood up to her, defended your daughter half as much as you defend your wife, Sam wouldn't have spent six months in prison."

"Maybe so," Captain Flack agreed. "I know you don't believe it, Don, but I do regret what happened with your sister. And there's not a day that goes by that I don't wish I could change how things ended with Bobby. No parent wants to see their child completely cut them off like that, to be so left out that you don't even know you've got grandchildren until you hear it in the midst of an argument."

"So why the hell didn't you do something about it?" Don asked angrily.

"There are some things I just couldn't risk," Captain Flack said cryptically. "I love your brother, and losing him because of what your mother did…that was probably one of the hardest things I'll ever have to go through, and I will mourn that every day for the rest of my life, but I just couldn't risk it, Don."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Don asked. "It's like you're afraid that she's gonna break if you stand up to her or somethin'."

The elder Flack didn't respond directly to his son, instead turning his head quickly to hide the emotions he knew would betray his long-held secret, hoping his son had missed the signs but knowing that he was too skilled an investigator to have done so.

"My God," Don said incredulously. "You are, aren't you? You're actually afraid if you say the wrong thing to her, she's gonna break. Dad, she's a grown woman, not some porcelain doll you've gotta handle with kid gloves. She can handle a little criticism, she ain't gonna break."

"You don't know that," Captain Flack said quietly, leaning heavily on his forearms as he let out a deep sigh, not missing the intensely questioning stare from Don and knowing that there would be no keeping the truth from his son now. "Do you remember when you were six, Don? When my mother came to stay with us for five months?"

"Yeah," Don said, not understanding what that had to do with his father's inability to stand up to his mother. "Ma went upstate to help a friend who was havin' a hard time with her new baby."

"Your mother didn't have any friends upstate, Donnie," Captain Flack admitted.

"Then what…" Don muttered in confusion. "She was gone for five months, Dad, she had to have gone somewhere."

"She was in Brooklyn," Captain Flack said. "St. Anne's Hospital."

"Dad, St. Anne's is a mental hospital," Don pointed out.

"I know," Captain Flack nodded. "A sanitarium, that's what they called it back then…I always thought that was a horrible name for the place, really. As if there was something dirty about her that needed to be sanitized away. She just…I came home one day and she was just sitting in the living room, rocking back and forth, humming…the pots were boiling over in the kitchen, your sister was screaming, but she was just rocking, like nothin' was getting through…she didn't even blink when I picked her up and took her upstairs to call the doctor, just kept on staring right ahead."

"What happened?" Don asked in shock.

"You know, they never really knew," Captain Flack said. "She had some sort of nervous breakdown, but they never did figure out what caused it…doctor even said it could have been nothing. Anything could have set her off, I guess. When I brought her home, they told me to be real careful with what I said to her, because they were afraid it would happen again."

"And has it?" Don asked.

"There have been a few…well, incidents," Captain Flack admitted. "Nothing quite as long as the first time, but they've happened. She never wanted anyone to know, so I always made up some excuse or other for her bein' gone."

"We would have understood," Don insisted. "It doesn't excuse what she says, though."

"I'm not tryin' to make excuses for her," Captain Flack said. "But every time she's…well, she's had an incident…every time, it's been after a big fight. I guess I'd just hope that maybe you can understand that I can't risk putting her through that again."

"You lost Bobby, you're losing Sam, you're probably even losing me," Don said. "Is that price worth it? Is losing your children worth it?"

"She's my wife, Don," Captain Flack said. "I said 'for better or for worse', not 'until it gets too hard'. I have to do what I can to protect her, even if it hurts me, just like you had to stand up to your mother today to protect your wife."

"It's not the same thing," Don said.

"Maybe the actions are different," Captain Flack agreed. "But the intent is the same, Don – to protect the woman that you love."


	16. That's Better

**A/N: **Well, I warned you it was coming...this will be the last regular chapter of this story (there'll be an epilogue). Thank you all so much for reading and reviewing - it's been so much fun for me, and I hope you enjoyed the story as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Next up for me, I plan to take 'Something To Be Proud Of' off hiatus, so those of you who also follow that story, look for the first new chapter to come this weekend or early next week. I've also begun a new story series, 'Circumstantial Life' - it's a bit different than anything I've done before, so I hope all of you will check that one out as well!

Okay, enough chit-chat. On with the story...

* * *

"I get that you love her," Don said to his father, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest as he stared at the man next to him. "I love her too, I do. And I get that you feel like you have a responsibility to her. Isn't there a line, though?"

"What sort of line?" Captain Flack asked.

"She's not your only responsibility," Don pointed out. "What about your responsibility to us? To your children? Is there ever going to be a point when you say it's too much? That we're important too?"

"I don't know," Captain Flack sighed. "She's…I…let me put it this way – your wife…Stella, right?"

"Yeah, Stella," Don nodded.

"You're in love with her?" Captain Flack asked.

"More than I've ever been with anyone," Don said.

"So let's say one day you wake up, maybe a year from, maybe even two or three," Captain Flack. "One day, you wake up and she's gone…physically, she's still there, but she's not the same; the woman you fell in love with, the one you married, she's gone. Could you just walk away, knowing that somewhere inside the woman that's left, that woman you love might still be there? Could you just leave her behind?"

Don sighed as he shook his head, knowing that his father had no way of knowing just how to close to home that question hit for his son.

"No," Don said. "I couldn't walk away."

"Alright then," Captain Flack nodded. "Your mother was the love of my life, Donnie. Most days now, that woman is gone…I've gotten to know the woman that took her place, but she's no substitute, let me tell you that. But there are some times…there are moments when I see her, when she's that woman again, that spunky, carefree girl who stole my heart forty years ago. It's not nearly as often as I would like, but it's enough…those days are the reason I stay."

"I guess I can understand that," Don said reluctantly. "I don't like it…but I think I can understand it."

"You really love that girl, don't you?" Captain Flack asked in amazement. "A year ago, you woulda knocked me on my ass for askin' you to excuse your mother…you've gotta really love someone to understand stayin'."

"Yeah, I really love her," Don said. "She's everything to me, Dad, everything."

"So why keep it a secret?" Captain Flack asked curiously. "She's everything…why not let the whole world know she's yours?"

"Mine?" Don asked with a laugh. "You've clearly never met Stella, Dad…she's not exactly the type of woman you get to claim as your own. She would knock you flat on your ass if you tried to say that in front of her, even if she is in a hospital bed right now."

"You get the point, though," Captain Flack said. "Why the secrecy? And don't give me some crap about working together, because I was on the force for thirty years, Donnie, I knew my fair share of couples who made it work just fine."

"It just happened so quickly," Don said. "We didn't even really think about telling anyone…I mean, no one knew we'd even been seein' each other, so when we decided to get married…well, it woulda involved a whole lot of explainin' and we just wanted to get the wedding done quick."

"Why the rush?" Captain Flack asked. "It's not like she was pregnant or something."

Don didn't respond to his father's question immediately, as he let out a soft sigh and slumped forward again, resting his elbows on his lap and placing his head in his hands.

"Oh," Captain Flack said softly, nodding in understanding. "She was?"

"Yeah," Don nodded solemnly. "She was."

"She's not…I mean, with the shooting last night…" Captain Flack said, his confusion evident in his stumbling questions.

"No…we got married in September, Dad," Don clarified, realizing that in the midst of all the arguing and accusations, his parents had probably never stopped to gather the actual facts on his sudden marriage. "Nicky was due in March."

"Nicky?" Captain Flack asked.

"Our son," Don explained. "We'd…we named him Nicholas…"

With a heavy sigh, Don slowly turned just slightly to face his father and with a shaky voice began recounting the story of Stella's devastating fall and their son's death…

"_Hey Stella, what's in this bag?" Don called out as he hung up his jacket late one evening and spotted a small white shopping bag tucked in the back of the closet._

"_What bag?" Stella asked curiously, stepping from the bathroom back into the bedroom, her hair still damp from the shower as she moved to get a better look at what Don was holding._

"_I found it in the closet," Don said, holding up the bag. "I've never seen it before."_

"_Oh God," Stella gasped as she saw the bag, quickly reaching out to grab the bag from him. "I didn't think that was…here, just give it to me, it's not anything important…"_

"_What, is it a surprise for me?" Don asked with a grin, pulling the bag just out of Stella's reach. "I think I should open it, then."_

"_No, Don, I'm serious," Stella insisted, reaching again for the bag. "I don't…"_

_Stella's voice trailed off as Don reached into the bag and removed it's contents, her face falling as she watched the confusion cloud his features, followed quickly by sadness and devastation as he realized exactly what was in the bag._

"_Stel…" he said softly, turning to look at his wife._

"_I bought it right after the last ultrasound," Stella said, a few tears brimming in the corners of her eyes. "You were talking about how he was due right before the season opener, and I thought it would a nice surprise…I was going to dress him up for the his first game…"_

"_It…it would have been…" Don paused for a moment as he lip quivered and he fought to hold back the tears, his fingers running over the embroidery on the deep blue Yankees onesie and tiny infant-sized baseball cap. "…I think it would have been perfect…"_

_With the last word, Don seemed to finally lose his composure, his shoulders shaking as he clutched the tiny outfit close to his chest, squeezing his eyes shut in a futile effort to stave off the tears. Reaching out quickly, Stella wrapped her arms around his shoulder as he leaned against the wall and slowly slumped to the floor, Stella sliding down with him as his head came to rest on her shoulder._

"_It woulda clashed with his green eyes," Don said, eventually breaking the comforting silence that had descended as they held tightly to one another on the floor._

"_Green eyes?" Stella asked. "Are you sure?"_

"_I'm sure," Don nodded. "They woulda sparkled just like yours do."_

"_Well, if he had my eyes, he would have had your smile," Stella said with a weak laugh. "We'd have been completely at the mercy at that little boy with that grin…no one would have ever been able to say no to him."_

"_He woulda been smart, too, just like his mother," Don added. "Woulda gone to some big name place…Harvard, or maybe even Columbia."_

"_But he would have been street smart, too," Stella pointed out. "You would have taught him that…how to be tough enough to get by, but without losing your heart…"_

"_He woulda been the best of both of us," Don concluded._

"_Yeah, he really would have been," Stella agreed._

"_He didn't even get a name," Don said, still clutching the tiny blue onesie in his hand. "We should have named him, Stel…why didn't we name him?"_

"_Nicky," Stella said quietly, glancing up nervously at Don. "I wanted to call him Nicholas."_

"_Nicholas," Don repeated, rolling the name around in his mind as he set the onesie down on one leg and wrapped his free arm around Stella's waist, scooting her just a bit closer to him. "I like that. Nicholas Robert Flack."_

"_Robert?" Stella asked._

"_After my grandfather," Don explained. "And my brother, too, I guess."_

"_It's perfect," Stella said, leaning her head against his chest as she reached out to run her fingers across the fabric of the tiny outfit she would never put on her son._

"_He was perfect," Don whispered, softly kissing Stella's hair as they both fell back into the comfortable silence, holding tightly to one another, almost afraid to let go this time._

"He would have been four weeks old by now," Don said, shaking his head to clear it of the difficult memories. "I've…I've never told anyone about him…well, obviously, since that would have meant telling people about Stella, and I didn't do that…"

"I'm glad you did," Captain Flack interrupted calmly, hesitantly reaching out a hand and placing it on his son's back, pausing for a moment before continuing. "I'm proud of you, Don."

"For what?" Don asked in confusion.

"You found a good woman and you stood by her," Captain Flack said. "Even when it would have been easier to walk away – and no one would have known – you didn't do it. You know, I still have a hard time sometimes seeing you as you are…I look at you and I still see that insolent teenager who's only goal in life was to piss me off. Somewhere along the way, I guess I missed the part where became a damn good man, and I'm proud of you for that."

"Excuse me, Detective Flack?"

Don looked up to find a nurse hovering in the doorway, clearly on her way somewhere else, anxious to deliver her message and move on.

"Your wife is back in her room, sir," the nurse said. "She's asleep at the moment, though. Dr. Harper says to let you know that she'll be in to discuss the results with you soon."

* * *

An hour later, Don found himself once again settled into a chair by Stella's bedside, her hand nestled softly in one of his as he gently ran the other through her hair, smiling to himself as he rested his head on his arm and watched the steady rise and fall of her chest with each breath she took as she slept soundly in her hospital bed.

For the first time since he'd arrived at the hospital, Don was certain that they were finally alone. There were no friends hovering the doorway, no family lurking in the shadows, ready to barge in at any moment. As much as Don knew that Stella enjoyed having their friends close by, he also knew that the doctor had insisted she needed rest to recover, and to get that, she needed a night of peace and quiet – or at least as much peace and quiet as anyone could expect in a hospital, with the constant beeping of the machines and nurses popping in every hour to wake her up and record her vitals.

Mac had stopped in briefly after Stella had returned from her latest round of tests, but hadn't stayed long. He'd finally gotten the call from Jersey, letting him know that they had a suspect in custody. Don figured by this point, Mac was standing in an observation room, watching another detective interrogate the shooter. As much as he wished he could have gone himself, Don certainly didn't envy that detective the task of living up to Mac Taylor's high standards, particularly if he wasn't able to get a confession from his suspect. He knew Mac wouldn't rest until the bastard was behind bars and the D.A. had a case strong enough to keep him there for the rest of his life.

His father had stayed with him long enough for Samantha to make her way back up to Stella's room. It had taken some convincing on the part of both Flack men, but she had reluctantly agreed to allow him to buy her dinner before driving her back to her apartment for the night. Don wasn't entirely sure what it was exactly that his father intended or hoped to say to his only daughter, but he could only hope that it began with the simplest and most powerful phrase of them all: "I'm sorry." He wasn't naïve enough to think that one day was going to turn his family around, but Don hoped that maybe, just maybe, this could be a small start to a big change.

He'd seen Hawkes and Jess only briefly before they had both left for the night, assuring him that they would be back first thing in the morning. Danny and Lindsay had come by with Allie on their way out for the night, telling him that they needed to get her home and in bed, although something in the way the two of them were looking at each other, the comfortable way Danny had his arm wrapped around Lindsay's waist, told Don that perhaps that wasn't the only reason they were so anxious to get back to Lindsay's apartment.

As he ran his hand over Stella's, Don paused as his fingers hit her bare ring finger. Reaching into his pocket, Don withdrew the small bag the nurse had handed him the night before. Slowly opening the bag and removing the two rings, Don smiled to himself as he turned them over in his hand. Being careful not to wake Stella, Don lifted her hand and gently slipped the simple platinum wedding band onto her finger, followed closely by the much more elaborate diamond engagement ring.

"That's better," he whispered, leaning forward and kissing her softly on the cheek. "I love you, Stel."


	17. Epilogue

**A/N:** Thank you all for being so patient in waiting for this epilogue - I'll bet you thought I'd forgotten all about it, right? Truth is, I've been working almost constantly on it since posting that last chapter...not that you'd know it from looking at this fairly standard-sized epilogue here. Many of the ideas I had for an epilogue just didn't fit well into a one-chapter epilogue, which is all I wanted to do on this story. Some of them even took root in my head and are slowly, slowly being nurtured and grown into what may (stress _may_) become a sequel for 'Ten Double Zero'. If or when that happens, it'll be several months down the road - so after you've read the epilogue, drop in a little review, let me know what you think and let me know if there's anything you're still wondering about for a (possible) sequel.

Thank you all so much for reading and reviewing - I have loved sharing this story with all of you!

* * *

"You look exhausted, Stel," Lindsay observed, taking a seat next to her friend on a hard wooden bench in the hallway. "Are you still not sleeping well? It's been six weeks since you left the hospital, shouldn't that be better by now?"

"It takes more time than you'd think," Stella said. "Especially since I've got a scar across my entire abdomen now. Lying down isn't exactly the most comfortable position, and there's only so much they can give me for the pain."

"I guess that's one of the reasons you only get to come back half-time next week?" Lindsay asked.

"That, and Mac and Don are being ridiculously overprotective," Stella said.

"Well, if you're not sleeping…" Lindsay began.

"Dr. Harper says it should be better soon," Stella insisted. "It's just normal recovery stuff, I guess. I had the same thing the last time I had surgery."

"You had that much trouble after your appendectomy?" Lindsay asked in surprise.

"Um, yeah," Stella nodded, silently scolding herself for almost slipping again. Although she didn't intend to keep that part of her secret forever, there just never seemed to be a good time to let her friends in on the truth – and, if she were perfectly honest with herself, she wasn't entirely sure just how much of the truth she really wanted them know at all.

"I guess you did have that infection," Lindsay said. "Well, I sure hope you heal up soon and the next time you look this tired, it's something entirely different keeping you up at night…or maybe I should _someone_?"

"Lindsay!" Stella exclaimed with an embarrassed laugh.

"What?" Lindsay asked, shrugging her shoulders innocently. "I'm not asking for details, I'm just saying, you're married to Don Flack, Stella – you can't tell me that's not a fabulous part of that situation. I mean, if you tell me he's not good, I think my world order would shift…he certainly looks like he'd be good."

"Lindsay, really!" Stella protested.

"What? I'm not blind," Lindsay said defensively. "I'm not saying I want what you've got, because I'm perfectly happy with what I have. I'm just saying…"

"What you have?" Stella interrupted curiously. "So you and Danny have…?"

"That's not what I meant," Lindsay sighed. "We're taking it slow, remember? We can't afford to make any mistakes this time around, not now that we've got Allie to think about. And really, it's only been two months, which isn't all that long, not in the grand scheme of things."

"I suppose not," Stella agreed. "But you're happy? Slow is good for you?"

"Yeah, slow is working pretty well," Lindsay agreed. "I think it just might work this time around. He knows what he has to lose this time, and he knows we won't get another shot at this – it's our last chance, because I don't think I can start over again."

"He won't screw it up," Stella said. "I think he learned his lesson the first time. Danny adores you, Lindsay, and he'd do anything to keep you in his life now."

"Well, don't think that you're going to be hearing wedding bells anytime soon," Lindsay cautioned. "But I think we're heading in the right direction."

"I'm happy for you, kiddo," Stella said sincerely. "Now, what the hell do you suppose is taking them so long in there?"

"It's a jury," Lindsay said. "You know it probably took them half the morning just to decide what to order for lunch."

"Now there's a cynical view of our legal system," Flack laughed as he walked over to the two women, handing Stella a cup of coffee and setting a brown paper bag down next to her before settling in beside it. "Sorry, Monroe, didn't know you'd be here or I woulda picked somethin' up for you too."

"Don't worry, I can't stay too long," Lindsay assured him. "I wish I could, but Danny and Hawkes caught a double out in Queens and Mac's out on some murder in Brooklyn – seemed kind of small to me, but apparently the mayor's office called him directly about it."

"You mean Jordan called," Stella said with a slight smirk.

"Well, I didn't take the call," Lindsay said. "I don't know exactly who it was."

"The mayor hates Mac," Stella pointed out. "The only way that office requests Mac is when Jordan Gates gets on the phone and calls him herself."

"Oh," Lindsay nodded. "I guess that makes sense."

"I don't get it," Flack said. "Why would she request him?"

"You're kidding, right?" Stella asked. "You don't know?"

"Don't know what?" Lindsay asked.

"You haven't noticed either?" Stella asked. "What, am I the only detective in this group?"

"Hey now," Flack protested. "What are we missing?"

"That Jordan Gates has a thing for Mac," Stella explained. "Has for the last year and a half, at least…actually, probably a lot longer than that."

"Mac and Jordan?" Lindsay asked incredulously. "How the hell did I not know that?"

"Not Mac and Jordan," Stella corrected. "There is no 'Mac and Jordan', just Jordan wishing Mac weren't so damn oblivious."

"And here I thought Inspector Whitford was the one for him," Lindsay sighed.

"Oh, she's got a thing for him too," Stella said.

"So Mac's a bit of a player," Flack observed in amusement.

"Not exactly," Stella laughed. "In order to play, he'd have to poke his head out of the lab and recognize that there are women out there who'd like to have a relationship with him. Which, of course, he won't do, so there will be no playing."

"We should all go on a group date," Lindsay suggested. "You two, Danny and I, Hawkes could bring Dr. Harper…and we could invite Inspector Whitford and Mac. Oh, it would be brilliant!"

"Why not Jordan?" Flack asked.

"Too clingy," Lindsay shook her head dismissively. "Mac needs a stronger woman than that, I think."

"I can't even believe I'm havin' this conversation," Flack groaned. "And for the record, I am not going to be a part of some big group date conspiracy to set Mac up with someone who happens to be our boss' boss."

"Scaredy-cat," Lindsay teased, groaning slightly as her cell phone began to ring. Glancing down at the screen, she shook her head. "Looks like I've got to get back to the lab."

"Have fun," Stella said.

"Oh, oodles," Lindsay said sarcastically. "Next week, you can do all this grunt work, since you won't be allowed in the field just yet."

"I can't wait," Stella said.

"And it's a little disgusting that you seem sincere in that," Lindsay laughed. "Oh, which reminds me…Mac wanted me to ask you if you need him to order you a new badge and ID cards before you come back?"

"Why would I need a new badge?" Stella asked in confusion. "I thought Internal Affairs gave mine back to Mac after they deemed the shoot clean?"

"Oh, they did," Lindsay nodded. "There's nothing wrong with your badge or ID cards…Mac just thought maybe you'd want new ones. You know, now that your secret is out…"

"I'm not following," Stella said, furrowing her brow as she tried to figure out what Lindsay was getting at.

"He wants to know if you're going to change your name," Lindsay said. "He wants to know whether or not he needs to order you a badge that says _Stella Flack_ before you come back to work."

"Oh," Stella said, nodding in comprehension and looking nervously at Don. "I guess I hadn't thought about that."

"Well, don't go rushing to a decision now, I'll just tell Mac that you'll call him," Lindsay said, grabbing her purse as she stood up. "Call me when the jury's in, alright?"

"Bye, Linds," Stella said, sighing as she leaned back against the bench and turned to Don. "So, what do you think?"

"About what?" Flack asked.

"My name," Stella said. "Should I change it?"

"Do you want to change it?" Flack countered.

"That isn't what I asked," Stella pointed out.

"But it's what you should be asking," Flack said. "There are plenty of good reasons to not change it – it would be less confusing at work; it's the only name you've ever had and the one your professional reputation is built on; it's your connection to your birth parents…all good reasons to keep your name."

"That's true," Stella said.

"And there are lots of good reasons to take my name," Flack continued. "It's tradition, for one; everyone would know that you're _my_ wife; you're part of my family now…lots of reasons to go both ways."

"Your family?" Stella asked.

"Well okay, I get that you might not want to be associated with my crazy sister," Flack admitted. "Or my 'legendary', old-school cop of a father…or my domineering, frightening mother…but I do have a really nice brother out in California."

"And then there's you," Stella said with a smile. "You're not that bad…most of the time."

"Well, I'm glad you agree," Flack laughed. "I guess my point is, there are reasons both ways, but it all comes down to what you want to do. It's your name, Stella."

"I know," Stella sighed. "I don't know what to do."

"You want me to take your name?" Flack asked.

"Seriously?" Stella asked skeptically.

"Why not?" Flack asked. "It could be kinda cool. I could be _Detective Donald Bonasera_. How's that sound?"

"As sweet as the offer is," Stella said, leaning across their lunch spread and kissing him softly. "I don't think it works, Don."

"Just a thought," Flack shrugged. "We gotta keep things fair, you know."

"Detectives?" a young bailiff said questioningly, hesitantly approaching the pair. "District Attorney Greer asked me to let you know that the jury has reached a verdict."

"Thank you," Flack said, nodding to dismiss the young man, who quickly hurried back to his duties. "You ready, Stel?"

"As ready as I'll ever be," Stella said, carefully easing herself off of the bench, leaning into the arm Flack wrapped around her waist as they slowly made their way down the hall to the courtroom.

"This quick, it had to be a conviction," Flack whispered reassuringly. "No way would they let that bastard walk, Stel. Quinn put together a slam-dunk case."

"I know," Stella said nervously, taking a seat next to her husband in the back of the courtroom. "Crazy stuff happens in a jury room, you know that."

"They'll convict," Flack repeated, this time more to himself than to anyone else.

"Remain seated," the bailiff's voice interrupted Flack's reassurances. "Court remains in session from this morning, the honorable judge Melissa Turner presiding."

The formalities of the end of a trial, so familiar to Don from years of testifying at trials just like this one, were completely lost on him that afternoon, as he waited anxiously for the words to come from the jury foreman's mouth.

For two and a half weeks, he'd spent every moment he could here in this courtroom. Through four days of jury selection, he sat in that seat. Through the opening and closing statements, he'd sat in that seat. Through the testimony of neighbors, friends and fellow officers, he'd sat in that seat. Through the meticulous testimony of Quinn Shelby and the heart-wrenching recollections of Jessica Angell, he'd sat in that seat. And, though it had taken every ounce of self-control he possessed to not cry out or leave the room, he'd remained in his seat through Stella's own testimony.

Now, he squeezed her hand and closed his eyes, sending up a silent prayer, making sure God knew that he wouldn't be held responsible for his actions if the unrepentant young man at the front of the courtroom walked out a free man.

_On the first count of the indictment, attempted murder of a peace officer, we find the defendant guilty as charged._

When the words finally came, it was as though a weight had been lifted off of his shoulders. Wrapping his arms around Stella, he held her close, thanking God that the man responsible for almost taking her from him was about to have his own freedom permanently taken away.

* * *

Don carefully slipped off his shoes a few days later, slowly bringing his feet onto the couch, shifting his hips ever so slightly so that he was sprawled out across the length of the couch, his arms wrapped tightly around his wife as she slept against his chest. Reaching one arm out, he grabbed the remote from the back of the couch and quickly flicked off the movie that had only just begun playing on the television.

Glancing down at Stella, Don smiled at how serene she looked pressed up against him. Leaning down, he gently kissed her forehead and brushed a stray curl away from her face before closing his eyes and leaning his head back against the couch.

These were the moments Don tried not to let pass by unnoticed. These were the quiet, intimate moments that no one else would ever be privy to, the moments when she was at her most vulnerable, her most trusting – the moments he didn't have to share her with the world, when she was solely and completely his. For the past six weeks, he hadn't had to share her with anyone, and he'd enjoyed every moment of it.

When she returned to work the next morning, he knew they'd be starting a new chapter, but at the same time, they'd be leaving the sheltered bubble they'd been living in the last two months. They'd finally have to face the consequences of their secret marriage – the whispered questions, the hushed comments behind their backs, the rules forbidding them from working the same cases.

"Mmmm," Stella muttered groggily as she stirred against his chest.

"Hey," Don said, shifting slightly as she turned her head up to look at him.

"What were you thinking about?" Stella asked curiously.

"You," Don replied, leaning down to kiss her softly. "Have a nice nap?"

"I don't understand why I'm still so tired," Stella sighed.

"I don't know," Flack said. "There is that little gettin' shot, recovering from major surgery thing, you know."

"Minor details," Stella said in frustration.

"Speaking of details…" Flack said hesitantly.

"Why do I sense an awkward, completely illogical segue coming up?" Stella asked.

"Not completely illogical," Flack said defensively. "I saw Mac today, and he wanted to know if you'd made a decision about that badge thing."

"You mean my name?" Stella asked.

"Yeah, your name," Flack nodded.

"I think I have," Stella said.

"And…?" Flack asked questioningly.

"And I think I'm leaving the badges the way they are," Stella said.

"I see," Flack nodded, trying not to be visibly disappointed that she'd elected not to take his name.

"I just really like having my own identity at work," Stella said. "And I've worked hard for my reputation, Don…both in the NYPD and in the forensic community. I don't want to risk losing any of that by changing my name."

"I get it," Flack said.

"No, I don't think you do," Stella said. "I want to stay Stella Bonasera at work, but I also want her to stay at work."

"Huh?" Flack asked in confusion.

"When I step out of that precinct, I want to be Stella Flack," Stella said. "When we're not at work, I want to be your wife in every way, including having your name."

"So how's that gonna work?" Flack asked.

"I want to legally change my name," Stella said. "My social security card, my driver's license, our lease…I want all of it to say _Stella Flack_. It's just at work that I'll still have that little bit of a separation."

"I guess that makes sense," Flack agreed.

"And it'll be less confusing," Stella pointed out. "I mean, if you and I were both chasing down a suspect next week and someone called out 'Flack, look out!', we'd have to know which one he was talking to, right?"

"Stella, you do know you're not chasin' anyone or anything next week, right?" Flack asked. "You gotta take it easy for a while, babe. That's why you're goin' back on desk duty tomorrow, no runnin' after bad guys or wavin' that gun around until you're good and ready."

"Now see, I was excited about going back – you're taking all the fun out of it," Stella laughed.

"It's work, Stel, it ain't supposed to be fun," Flack pointed out.

"Are you telling me you don't enjoy that rush you get when you take a murderer off of the streets?" Stella asked skeptically.

"I didn't say it wasn't satisfying," Flack said. "I'm just sayin', I can think of a few things that are a lot more fun than goin' to work."

"Oh can you now?" Stella asked, arching an eyebrow as he leaned down to kiss her again.

"Oh, I most definitely can," Flack whispered.

"Mmm," Stella sighed. "Don, we can't…you know the doctor hasn't cleared me yet…"

"I know," Don groaned in frustration. "Damn stupid criminals shooting my wife…"

"It won't be long, don't worry," Stella assured him. "I'm sure after next week's appointment…"

"Stel, you know I'm not really upset, right?" Flack asked. "I'm not sayin' I'm not lookin' forward to getting back to all of that…hell, I'd be crazy if I wasn't. I mean, we've always been good at that. I'm just sayin', right now, I'm just happy to have you here with me, healthy and safe."

"So, so sappy," Stella teased.

"You know you love me, Mrs. Flack," Don said, leaning down to kiss her again.

"I do," Stella agreed with a content sigh, slowly reaching her arms up around his neck and resting her head on his shoulder. "I really, really do."


End file.
